Synonyms for "reconcile" include: adjust, resolve and harmonize...
I've already used the title "Feelings Of the Impending Doom" so I had to get creative with this one, but really, the doom is once again impending. Thanks a lot Dr. Sears.
So, the doom of which I speak is, of course, sending Jackson to daycare...full-time...all day... five days a week. The doom is not returning to work...full-time...all day...five days a week, although, I suspect some you might be surprised to hear that, considering I haven't worked full-time in, oh, about five years, but I digress. No, the doom does not revolve around the work I will get to do, but what I have to do in order to work. Hence the need for reconciliation.
I've been scouring the internet, when Jackson is quietly snoozing, for that one article that will change my perspective, make choosing daycare perfectly legit for a 2 month old, not scary and life-altering and challenging in the least. I've been looking and I haven't found squat that makes me feel any better and I hate it. Stupid internet, what good are you if not to provide ample justification for good, bad and ugly decisions we make in our lives and recipes for enchiladas?
The last time I tried educating myself on processes and procedures for how to make things work the way you'd like for them to work I delivered Jackson, by c-section, under general anesthesia, after having my water broken by the doctor who then administered Pitocin to further along my labor, preceded by a failed epidural attempt and IV start. In case you're new here...I wanted absolutely none of the above mentioned things to happen. Instead I wanted to labor naturally, with little to no medical interventions (i.e. artificial water breaking, IV starts, Pitocin, epidurals) unless absolutely necessary. I was talked into attempting the epidural, required to have the IV started and too focused on breathing through contractions to argue and basically begged for the c-section after 15 hours of unsuccessful dilation beyond 8 centimeters. Oh the irony.
The thing is I am terrified I made the wrong decision and won't actually know how wrong until my child becomes damaged baby goods. Drastic I know...but this is where my head goes. I've read the attachment with my child will be damaged, he will become the sickest baby on the block instead of the happiest and oh my goodness, what if, for whatever reason, the daycare worker doesn't particularly like my child.
I need to adjust my thinking...how many of you out there attended daycare at a young age? Really, I need to know, because if you survived and thrived then I can start to imagine my kid surviving and thriving. Now, there are a few of you I am not so sure about..........(only kidding). When I was struggling with breast feeding and whether or not to continue my doctor looked into my tear-stained face and said these brilliant words, "Catie, if you feed your child formula he will still go to college." After all, she was formula fed, I was formula fed, Robbie was formula fed. In other words, Jackson will be okay. I need to believe my baby will be okay in daycare.
Resolving to do or think or be something requires dispelling fears and doubts. I am pretty certain I need to witness Jackson being okay in daycare for a few weeks before my fears and doubts go away. Ultimately, if it doesn't work out I can resolve to find another solution. Whatever that may be. He is most important to me and as his Mommy it's my number one job to make sure he is well cared for.
Finding harmony in all of this will take time. I've been praying for his safety and well-being during the transition from home with me to a room with other babies and strange adults. Right now every movement, squeak, coo and sweet smile is so precious. I don't want to miss any of them and know no one else will appreciate them as the gifts they are.
The bottom line: I need to balance the cacophony in my head and find a melody I can start whistling on my way to work.
And now your daily dose of Danger...
So, the doom of which I speak is, of course, sending Jackson to daycare...full-time...all day... five days a week. The doom is not returning to work...full-time...all day...five days a week, although, I suspect some you might be surprised to hear that, considering I haven't worked full-time in, oh, about five years, but I digress. No, the doom does not revolve around the work I will get to do, but what I have to do in order to work. Hence the need for reconciliation.
I've been scouring the internet, when Jackson is quietly snoozing, for that one article that will change my perspective, make choosing daycare perfectly legit for a 2 month old, not scary and life-altering and challenging in the least. I've been looking and I haven't found squat that makes me feel any better and I hate it. Stupid internet, what good are you if not to provide ample justification for good, bad and ugly decisions we make in our lives and recipes for enchiladas?
The last time I tried educating myself on processes and procedures for how to make things work the way you'd like for them to work I delivered Jackson, by c-section, under general anesthesia, after having my water broken by the doctor who then administered Pitocin to further along my labor, preceded by a failed epidural attempt and IV start. In case you're new here...I wanted absolutely none of the above mentioned things to happen. Instead I wanted to labor naturally, with little to no medical interventions (i.e. artificial water breaking, IV starts, Pitocin, epidurals) unless absolutely necessary. I was talked into attempting the epidural, required to have the IV started and too focused on breathing through contractions to argue and basically begged for the c-section after 15 hours of unsuccessful dilation beyond 8 centimeters. Oh the irony.
The thing is I am terrified I made the wrong decision and won't actually know how wrong until my child becomes damaged baby goods. Drastic I know...but this is where my head goes. I've read the attachment with my child will be damaged, he will become the sickest baby on the block instead of the happiest and oh my goodness, what if, for whatever reason, the daycare worker doesn't particularly like my child.
I need to adjust my thinking...how many of you out there attended daycare at a young age? Really, I need to know, because if you survived and thrived then I can start to imagine my kid surviving and thriving. Now, there are a few of you I am not so sure about..........(only kidding). When I was struggling with breast feeding and whether or not to continue my doctor looked into my tear-stained face and said these brilliant words, "Catie, if you feed your child formula he will still go to college." After all, she was formula fed, I was formula fed, Robbie was formula fed. In other words, Jackson will be okay. I need to believe my baby will be okay in daycare.
Resolving to do or think or be something requires dispelling fears and doubts. I am pretty certain I need to witness Jackson being okay in daycare for a few weeks before my fears and doubts go away. Ultimately, if it doesn't work out I can resolve to find another solution. Whatever that may be. He is most important to me and as his Mommy it's my number one job to make sure he is well cared for.
Finding harmony in all of this will take time. I've been praying for his safety and well-being during the transition from home with me to a room with other babies and strange adults. Right now every movement, squeak, coo and sweet smile is so precious. I don't want to miss any of them and know no one else will appreciate them as the gifts they are.
The bottom line: I need to balance the cacophony in my head and find a melody I can start whistling on my way to work.
And now your daily dose of Danger...
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