Not Working for Me
I think that title sounds negative, but I think this is a positive post. We’ll see if I can think of a better title before hitting ‘Publish’. . .
Work isn’t working for me. I spent a long time on this road; so long I never thought I would arrive at my destination, i.e. having a healthy, living child. But I am here. (Knock wood.) I think a lot of people spend their pregnancy changing their mindset. Moving from someone who is not a mother to someone who is. I wasted my pregnancy being terrified of having another dead baby. My powers of disbelief were strong enough to resist a tear in the perineum and a bub in my arms. I spent my maternity leave in a cloud of wondering disbelief, although I honestly think it made me not take one moment of that time for granted. It was so precious.
But now I am back at work. Full-time. The love of my life is at day care – with people who are not his mummy. And although I love my career, I do not my job at present. We are getting shuffled around and shafted; I’m not doing what I am paid to do. Plus my priorities are shifting; my brain is finally catching up to being mummy.
In amongst these thoughts, I’m being thrown a lifeline by my husband. I don’t know how much to discuss here, but we’re putting a plan into action to have little or no mortgage, so if I can work it out with my workplace I can be part time and home more with my boy. I’m very excited – and a bit scared. It might sound strange, but it feels odd to finally be making changes to my working life centred around my boy. I have a career I built up myself – a career I love. But I do not love it as much as my little pumpkin man.