So I had been enjoying the whole motherhood thing, and it still felt like a dream. I was now one of those women whose conversations centered on breastfeeding, and one of my favourite topics was pampers or huggies? Yes I was that annoying mother who just could not stop talking about how my son smiled and how many times I breastfed him per day. Talk about milk formula, I knew all the brands and could give an impromptu milk 101 lesson. I just told myself that no one would be annoyed with me because everyone knew how much I had waited to have a baby so they would understand my being overzealous!
Yes, motherhood was doing it for me. I felt like everyone could see that I had just had a baby. I felt good and was like a kid who had just been given their favorite toy for Christmas. Normally in my culture a woman and her newly born baby remain indoors for a while because usana luzangenwa ngumoya (the wind outside is not good for the baby), not me. As soon I was able to drive and the fatigue had died down, I was out and about showing off my newly found jewel. Sometimes when he was sleeping, I would lightly tap his mouth so he could move it, then I’d know he was alive. I was toooooo excited!
Then reality set in, I had to go back to work! Work! Get this, before the baby, I was a workaholic of sorts, I worked in accounting for a reputable company and was well accustomed to ridiculous working hours. I had risen through the ranks and worked hard to prove myself. So it had always been a given that I would be back at work after my 98 days of maternity leave. All the preparations had been made, the nanny had been hired and trained, my sister continued living with me and she worked 2 minutes away so she would continue to check on the baby during my absence, and I would only work half days for the first three months. Yet still, I was terrified of leaving this bundle of joy behind. I couldn’t bear it and it called upon every ounce of willpower I had in me to do it. Needless to say, my mother was summoned back (more like she invited herself back out of worry tee hee) to come and make sure the transition was smooth. I wonder if my sister even got any work done those days, it seemed to me that each time I called she was at home checking on the baby.
The worrying was the minor of the issues. The major one was the guilt. It felt so good to be back at work doing what I loved, so I was guilty for being happy to be at work – understand? I mean was I not supposed to be miserable about leaving my baby behind? Did this make me a horrible, unloving mother? What was wrong with me? I was on flexi-time so I knocked off early, and sometimes instead of going straight home, I took advantage of the fact that he was a good baby and I went and did my own thing, then I would have feel even more guilty. It was a vicious cycle. At times I felt like I had a right to live my life, then at times it hit me in the face that TJ was now my life!
The guilt never stopped, I doubt it ever does. I’m sure I’ll feel the same guilt the first time I miss his soccer match or music recital. No baby magazine or television program prepared me for that. Yet somehow, each and everyday, I learn to deal with it by the grace of God. And I realize that yes; motherhood is a scary, exciting journey that will indeed last a lifetime.
How then do we stop feeling guilty, or worrying about leaving our little bambinos at home with nannys?
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