There's another baby, named Emma (no really!) at Miss T's daycare who's just three days younger. She started about a month later, and for her first three weeks or so her mother Linda came in to nurse at lunchtime, like I've done all along. Emma is a charming smiley baby; shorter than Miss T., but a little ahead on gross motor milestones, and with a lot more hair.
Linda and I picked up our babies at the same time a few days ago, and she asked casually, as we walked out to the parking lot, "So, how are you doing with this day care thing?"
"Hanging in there, I guess."
"It's so hard. I still cry after dropping her off some mornings."
"Yeah, I've noticed that on the days she cries when I leave at lunchtime, I'm a lot more likely to get chocolate on my way back to work."
WHAT I'M AFRAID SHE HEARD: Hey, you know that I'm still coming in to nurse every day, right? And I've so totally noticed that Emma's been getting formula in her bottles for weeks now. Looooooo-ser!
WHAT I CAN'T EVEN ARTICULATE EXCEPT MAYBE HERE: I've never cried after dropping the baby off in the morning. But I don't drop the baby off in the morning. Beaker does. It's easier for everyone: sets up some apparent his/hers duty fairness and protects me from confronting my guilt.
'Cause there's a lot of guilt here. I know, oh yes I know, that Tabby would probably be drinking bottles a lot more readily if she were ever separated from the boobie for more than four hours. I go in at lunch for me, too, to assuage my own fears about attachment (and about laws of supply and demand).
That chocolate thing? I don't know if I've ever comfort eaten before. It took me a while to notice the cravings, and to correlate them with my own frustration at handing a crying baby to someone else. It's a new kind of hurt, much more physical, much more in the gut, than most emotional pain is for me. Working when my daughter is this small, this helpless, is one of the big compromises, the kind that day by day, changes who I am. I honestly believe that Miss T. is doing, and will do, just fine. But there are little pieces of me that get burned up by each day of this and I don't know if they're replaceable.
A couple of weeks ago I gave up and just ordered a lot of extreme cocoa. I have a cup when I get back to my office, every day.
You described how I've been feeling perfectly. My son is 7 months and has now been in day care for almost 4 months. I thought it would get easier, but it hasn't. I think now that his personality has really developed, it's so much harder to leave him. If he's crying, I was to stay to be the one to comfort him. If he's laughing, I want to stay to be the one to play with him. I'm still going to nurse him during my lunch hour as well.
Thank you for giving words to my feelings.
Posted by: Andrea | Saturday, April 22, 2006 at 07:11 AM
no day care for me yet but the chocolate thing is weird. Never was much of a chocolate freak but w/breastfeeding I absolute CRAVE the stuff. Ritter sport dark w/whole hazelnuts is my current downfall.
Posted by: penelope | Saturday, April 22, 2006 at 04:55 PM
It's really hard to leave them if you want to be the one who is there all the time. Especially if you also want to be doing your job, and building your career (and I assume you do). Or even if you want to be doing your share of the breadwinning, and making your own living.
Parenthood is greatly about compromises. Being a good enough parent is a major victory. My first girl is 18, and living on the other side of the world, and I miss her every day. But she needs to be there and I need to be here, and so we compromise. Going in to breastfeed your baby at lunchtime is a good thing, not a reason to beat yourself up. Enjoy the bits you can, and congratulate yourself that you have bonded so well.
Take care, Emma Jane. You're doing fine.
Posted by: Emma also Jane | Sunday, April 23, 2006 at 08:15 AM
I think it's great that your perceptive to the point of considering how the other mother might have heard your comment. We're all so hypersensitve about mothering, but damned if I know a way around it. You might consider telling her that you didn't mean anything by it the next time you see her.
And having him drop off the kid s a stroke of genius.
Posted by: julia | Sunday, April 23, 2006 at 10:53 AM
Big hug. I know the daycare guilt thing. I also know the deep frustration because you're home and opportunities are flying by and you aren't getting a paycheck and it's snowing and your haven't left the apartment in three days.
Instead of focusing on the guilt, think about all the right things that you are doing. Breastfeeding at lunch hour! Only 4 hour separation! Great and loving daycare! Helpful, supportive husband! Flexible schedule with long vacation time!
Posted by: Laura | Monday, April 24, 2006 at 07:34 AM
You know, people kept telling me it would get easier. And I kept waiting, and waiting and waiting. And then I realized just the other day that it had. Not just the routine and all that, but I spent last tuesday morning with my son (18 months) and we went to the park, and I chatted with all the (presumably) stay-at-home-mom's, and all I felt was a pang. Not a tidal wave of regret, just a little pang.
And thankfully, with our schedules, my husband does drop-off 99% of the time.
Posted by: Ally | Monday, April 24, 2006 at 02:19 PM
I hear you on the daycare thing. And on the worry about how the other mom heard you. Sometimes it seems like there are so many touchy topics, so many ways to insult another parent's decisions, there's hardly any way to get to know someone without stumbling across one (or more).
Posted by: caro | Thursday, June 08, 2006 at 09:43 PM