Tag Archives: going back to work

Tearing off the bandage

It’s been a mad couple of days.  Wonderful, scary, sad, happy, stressful, all at the same time.

I had a job interview on Thursday.  Some history: I was laid off while I was still pregnant, so “going back to work” was a strange and stressful concept because I didn’t have anywhere to go back to.  Hubby’s job can take care of the household, but with both of us working we have a lot more breathing room and better ability to knock down some debt.  With the end of my maternity benefits, it was time to start looking.

Anyhow, I had an interview.  It went extremely well, I felt.  So well that they offered me a job, starting on Monday.  Woo-hoo!  I felt elated.  I met with a friend after the interview and we talked shop over coffee.  As I was heading back home, it hit me.  I’m going back to work in four days.  i have four days to get ready for this, to get organized, and to mentally prepare myself.


After a barrage of phone calls, I set up interviews with child-care providers.  I picked some friends’ brains about questions to ask, because I had no time to prepare.  After getting through the interviews, hubby and I enthusiastically agreed on one.  She’s organized, her home is spotless, and most importantly, A warmed up to her quickly.

Yesterday, I went out and got a bus pass, some work clothes, and a few other things.  Today we have a lot more running around to do to get ready.  We need a second car seat, since I’ll be dropping her off and hubby will be picking her up, and we won’t be able to just swap our seat between the cars.  A needs a lunch bag, and a few other items. Little stuff, but important stuff.

In all this, the hardest part is getting myself mentally prepared.  I’ve spent the past eleven months with my daughter, all day every day.  I’ve been raising her, cuddling her, feeding her, taking her to play groups, and suddenly, somebody else will be doing that for 8 hours of the day.  I won’t be able to peek in while she’s napping or blow raspberries on her feet while we’re playing.  All that will have to wait until I get home from work.  This makes me unbearably sad.  I’m tearing up as I’m writing and thinking about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to my new job.  I think it’ll be a great experience, and the people I got to meet were very nice.  It’s the right thing for our family, it’s the right thing for me, and A’s going to have a wonderful time with her care provider through the day.  It’s going to be hard to adjust, though.

Maybe it’s easier because I haven’t been dreading this for weeks and weeks, knowing that it’s coming.  I don’t know.  I don’t really have anything to compare it to.  I love her to pieces, and I’ll miss her, but I can guarantee one thing: she’ll be getting covered in kisses and raspberries when I get home.