Friday, June 14, 2013

She's on the hunt.

I've been putting off writing this blog for at least a week now, knowing that when I did, the finality of the situation would feel even more real.

Alas, Collin woke at 4 and I have been unable to fall back asleep since, my mind racing. It's now nearly 5:30 and I'm laying in bed with tears.

The time has come in which I need to find a "real" job. A job that pays not in hugs and kisses, but rather money.

Out financial woes are just too much for my husband to quell on his own. 

Now, I'm nearly certain that at he beginning of my stat-at-home-mom journey, I wrote about how blessed I would feel to have the opportunity to stay home for even just a few days, or something similar.

While, in my mind, I know that is true, my heart is hurting. Yes- I was blessed to stay home for one year and five-ish months. 

But, I grew to love the job if raising my children so much more than I imagined I would that the thought if having to give up the one job I have had that I can't imagine ever leaving honestly makes me sick to my stomach. It makes my chest ache and tears stream down my face.

My sons are my passion. My sons are my calling.

And soon enough, I will have to walk out that door, knowing, honestly, I will likely never have that job back. The past year and five months have been some of the most trying times of my life, but also the most rewarding, and they have passed by me quicker than a breath. The next three years will pass even quicker as I leave my heart at home and go exchange my time for a paycheck, and before we realize it, Spencer will be in school. Soon after, Collin will join. And, if I'm completely honest, I am now reconsidering my dream of 3 to 4 children, because I hate the thought of bearing another child I feel I rarely see, and a third or fourth child I would have even less time with than the two miracles I already have. I'm undecided of course, but it has definitely been on my mind.

Their most impressionable years will now be spent, the majority of the time, with someone else. Someone who could never love them like I do. Someone who could never fill my shoes. I hate that idea.

I try to be okay with it, but it's a farce. I'm not.

 I know I shouldn't feel entitled to the position of primary care giver and teacher, but I've been spoiled in being that person, and so, I do. I'm sorry, I don't want to feel that way, and I'm trying to work through it.

It makes me so sad to know that there's a very strong chance I won't experience all of Collin's "firsts" like I did with Spencer. His first steps, for example, will likely be witnessed by my sister, who so graciously agreed to nanny for my miracles a while until I can afford to put them in daycare.

You would think, as a former daycare provider, I would be less anxious to put my children in daycare. I know that they won't likely hate it, and I know there are excellent care providers out there. Yet, I am very anxious to allow someone else to fulfill my role.

I've always had compassion for mothers that have to say goodbye to their children and enter the workforce, but I definitely have a new understanding for the pain many feel. 

I know that countless moms do it, but how they carry on without their heart breaking is beyond me. 

I know realistically, I am exchanging my staying home with my sons to make money for them and for all four of us, so that we don't have to live in a financial crisis for eternity, and that makes it feel more... okay. It is the responsible thing to do really. They deserve a home and food and clothing and all that, so the sacrifice of my time with them isn't for naught. But it's still filling me with emotional turmoil. 

I hope it feels better with time.

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