What I Mean When I Say My Heart is at Home

Yesterday I completed my first week back to work after having my sweet baby boy. I was so blessed to be able to take extended maternity leave and stay home with him for 16 weeks. All throughout this week people have been asking me how things have been going and it’s so hard for me to truly answer because when I start to talk about it this lump appears in my throat and I feel the tears well up behind my eyes. So if you really want to know, here’s how it went:

This has probably been the most difficult week of my life. Every day my heart feels like it’s breaking because I have to leave my son in the care of someone else. Each day is an uphill battle because my heart aches to be at home with my baby.

While I was at home on leave I felt so relaxed, so happy, and so fulfilled. There was time to do things throughout the day. I got to spend all day with my baby, watching him learn, change, and grow. I had time to do laundry, go grocery shopping, clean my house, and cook meals. I felt like a great wife and mother. Four days back at work and I already feel inadequate as a wife, a mother, and even a teacher. I have zero time to do anything at work or at home. I am exhausted at the end of the day. Plus, I’ve been away from my son for about nine hours, why would I want to do anything when I'm at home other than hold him?

I’m not one of those people who thinks the woman’s place is in the home, but for me, that’s where I want to be. My heart is at home. My home is my domain. I want to take care of the cleaning, the cooking, and the laundry throughout the day so that when my husband comes home from working all day, he can relax and we can all spend time together as a family because there’s nothing pressing that needs to be done around the house. Don't get me wrong. I am blessed with an amazingly sweet and supportive husband. He happily shares in the household responsibilities when I’m working because he knows there’s not time to get it all done. But I hate that. I hate that after working twelve hour days, he has to come home and do more work in the evening and on his days off just so it doesn’t get out of control around here and so we have clean clothes to wear the next day and a clean plate from which to eat.

And while I’m talking about things I hate, I hate that my son’s caregivers get the best part of his day. I hate that they get about nine hours a day with him and I get about five. I hate that they see him growing and changing every day and that by the time I get him in the afternoons he’s so tired he sleeps all evening and I get maybe one hour of awake time with him. And while I am SO, SO blessed that we have amazing friends and family who love my son and take great care of him and that he’s NOT going to day care, I still hate all these things. It. Is. Just. Not. Fair. I hate that when I am with him I struggle to find joy because I look at his sweet face and cry knowing that in a few short hours I will leave him again for the day. It’s hard to enjoy the present when there’s always tomorrow morning looming over me. I hate that life is like this. Life shouldn't feel this stressful, unbalanced, overwhelming, and hurried. 

And let’s not forget about the work aspect of it all. As if it’s not enough feeling like I’m shortchanging and failing my son and my husband, I feel like I can’t keep up at work. Teaching is so rewarding. But it’s a hard job. It is stressful. It is overwhelming. I now also suffer from the guilt of feeling like I can’t even give my students my best because I’m just trying to make it through the day so I can run from that building and rush to my son. 

So how is it going? Well I’m frazzled. I’m exhausted. I’m overwhelmed. I’m stressed. I’m broken. I’m desperate. Desperate for God to reach down into our lives and make a way for me to be at home with him son. I’m doing the best that I can to be all that I need to be to my husband, my son, and my students. I’m doing my best to trust in the Lord and lean on Him every day for the grace and strength I need to get through it. And I’m clinging to the belief that the Lord has set this desire in my hear to be at home and that He will bring it to fruition in His time.  And I'm doing my best to be patient and to find peace and contentment in my current circumstances. But I feel like I'm in the struggle of a life time. 

So instead of asking me how it’s going or telling me it’s going to get better (it may have gotten better for you, but we’re not same person and each morning it gets harder and harder to kiss him good-bye), please just give me a hug and say a prayer for me to have strength to make it through the day.

Now I have to go hold my son and cherish this day because all too soon Monday morning will be here and I’ll be saying good-bye again.