The Way the [Mommy] Crumbles

Truth: It's silent, and it's invisible. But it's happening. I am absolutely crumbling under the weight of my life, and everything that has happened this past couple of years feels like it's hitting me all at once.

Why now? It's no secret I have a lot going on, but Myles has been out of daycare more often than not in the past month or so. I kept him home for his birthday, for some Christmas time, and then we were isolating due to COVID exposure. I thought I'd need a break, and in some ways I do. But actually, I just really loved having him home. I felt like he was safe in our little bubble, and we had fun. We watched Cars so many times, snuggled, ate every meal together, read books, colored, and I cherished every moment of it. There was no fighting over what to wear for school or rushing out the door or wondering what he was up to all day. I also never questioned my purpose. I knew why I was doing what I was doing, even if it was as simple as picking up toys so they could be dumped the next day. Now, that's coming to an end. Tomorrow morning, I have to drop a piece of myself off with people I barely know for 8+ hours while I... do what? I have a great job. It's a career, really. But what's the purpose? What is my purpose?

I think a lot of this is also spurred by Myles having almost died from meningitis. I talked about this very briefly on my Instagram, but basically he caught hand foot and mouth disease from daycare that progressed into meningitis for virtually no identifiable reason, other than that he was the unlucky small percentage. Whenever I see an ambulance or drive past the hospital, I immediately see him seizing and go right back to the feeling of helplessness and wondering if he'll be okay. But hey, I have to work right? Let's send him right back into the lion's den of germs and just cross our fingers that his immunity is getting stronger. Any time he has even a temperature of 99 degrees I start to feel panic and rush to administer Tylenol, because that's how it happened. He was fine until he wasn't. There was no warning.

I know that some of this anxiety could be brought on by pregnancy hormones or even my medication not being as effective during pregnancy. But at some moments, it really feels unbearable. I found myself searching for any reason to keep him home, which is also when I decided we HAVE to try and do daycare tomorrow. This is the same mindset of shutting in that I had when he was a baby; the same mindset that drove me to near insanity and isolation from everyone. I know I can't go through that again, and he has really flourished socially and developmentally from being in school. They do more with him than I could do while working - working for money that we need to keep living in our house, and buying the fun gifts, and having insurance and even just eating on a daily basis.

The big question is will I struggle with this forever? How will I look back on this time when my babies are grown and out of my house? Will I feel weighed down by guilt? Am I truly doing everything I can do to cherish all of my time with him, or even to make my time away from him every day worth it? At this point, I miss him so much during the day that I am distracted and unfocused. And here comes the pressure. I am giving up so much for this job - it HAS to be worth it. I HAVE to excel and bring home the big bonus, and do all the certifications and every little thing. I just feel like I can't right now, and for no good reason. That's not good enough.

Is there really any way to have it all?