Working Mom

I always knew that I wanted to be a working mom. I wanted to keep myself sharp, continue to bring in my own money, having something that was mine and set an example of a woman with a career for my daughter. Our routines have settled in since I returned to work and we seemingly run like a well oiled machine.

Between 4:30-5:00am:  Wake up. If Ella is up, breastfeed her, if not, pump.

5:25-6:00am: Shower and get ready for work. Love when Ella is awake and keeps me company while I get ready.

6:00am:  Feed the dog and pack Ella’s milk for daycare in her little lunchbox.

6:15am: Put Ella back to sleep or hand her over to Josh (if she’s awake). Leave for work after a million and a half kisses whether she has woken up or not.

7:00-3:00pm: Work with multiple pumping sessions in there and no lunch break so I can get out to pick up Ella ASAP.

Between 3:45-4:05pm: Pick Ella up from daycare.

4:15-7:30pm: Nurse, play, dinner, bath time, nurse, bedtime.

The rest of the night I spend transferring milk into bottles for day care and labeling them, exercising, spending some time with Josh, making my lunch for the next day and pumping.

Between 9:30-10pm: Crawl into bed exhausted and do it all over again.

Needless to say I live for the weekends.

This week the machine is running as usual but I am struggling. Earlier in the week it seemed like Ella only wanted me when she was hungry. I mean she was fine when I was holding her and playing with her but the BIG smiles only came out for daddy. Then yesterday, when I picked her up, she didn’t even smile as I excitedly greeted her. Nope that smile was reserved for Miss Katie. I almost started crying right there.

This morning she was still sleeping when I left, first 12 hour night. Is it crazy that I kind of miss our middle of the night sessions? She slept so long that we’ll go a whole 20 hours before we see each other. No wonder she smiles more at the daycare ladies. She spends more time with them than she does with me.

This week made me question my decision to go back to work. I’m not doing anything drastic like quitting my job. But it’s making me think. I know that Ella is 15 weeks old and not to take it personally, but it breaks my heart. My heart knows I’m being ridiculous but my head hasn’t quite caught up.

So happy its Friday.

One thought on “Working Mom

  1. If I could give you a hug, I would. It’s tough. And it stinks. I remember the daycare lady telling me Miles rolled over, and I spent that whole night trying to get him to do it. Of course, he didn’t. (I thank God it wasn’t the first time.) I get sad thinking that I’ll miss things. But I think, at least for me, we’re all better with me working. I get grownup time, lunches out and I don’t feel like a milk machine. I also remind myself that if it was just Miles and me at home that he wouldn’t be getting play time all the time. We’d be doing dishes and folding laundry and making dinner. The time I get with him is quality time. I’m also comforted by friends with older kids that they will always know who mom is and want her.

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