Nearing the eve of my first day back into ‘paid’ employment my breath is tight, my stomach a-flutter and my head spinning. Unfortunately I need to head back a touch earlier than planned.
My job over the past 10 months has been Motherhood. It was a new job not long ago. Now I am feeling comfortable in the role, so much in fact that I would like to continue in this job for years to come. Lucky, right?
But aren’t you bored?
No. Actually, quite the contrary.
I am inspired each and every day to learn and explore and become better. I have never felt so motivated to be my best. I have never felt that I have excelled at something to the extent I am excelling at this. I love it.
What about all that Baby Talk? Goo-goo, gah-gah, blardy blah-blah.
Baby Talk? That is my darling, forming vowels and words and communicating. Making eye contact and watching and copying. Isn’t she clever and wonderful?
Oh, still… I bet you can’t wait to get back to work. Get out and about, have a break.
I am feeling such a grave resentment towards the need for me to be in paid work. I should feel blessed to have had this time at home. I will be going back two days per week, yet Baby is barely 9 1/2 months old. This was not in our ‘plan’.
I am trying to remind myself of all the positive things – the biggest being Baby will spend time and develop bonds with other women in my dear family while I am at work, which I am incredibly grateful for. Another is that we will keep our heads above water financially. But I can’t help thinking of my Mum, who stayed at home until I was seven, with a hint of jealousy in my heart.
Gosh, I just couldn’t stand it. Hanging around the house all day with the baby.
Well, lucky for you, you can go to work and make it your passion and have a great time. But why is it assumed that I want it all? Motherhood, career, space, independence, money. Why can’t I choose to stay home with my baby, and know that it is a valid choice, a worthy choice. I’m not lazy. I do have aspirations. If they aren’t climbing a corporate ladder, does that make me boring or uneducated or silly?
Is is so strange that I could possibly find enough satisfaction in motherhood to fulfil me?