A year ago yesterday, I got up at 5:30 am. I cried when the alarm went off. I cried in the shower. I cried while I got dressed. Then, I cried while I woke Kade up, nursed him, and dressed him.
I got in the car and drove 5 minutes away--and I left him.
I went back to work for the first time in 9 weeks.
It didn't matter to me that he was with his grandmother (though I knew she loved him and would take excellent care of him). It didn't matter that I would be home in 8 hours.
All that mattered was that I was leaving my baby to take care of the children of others. That didn't make sense to me. I kept saying, "It's just not right." I didn't mean that I felt guilty or bad; I just knew it wasn't where I was supposed to be, but I couldn't do anything about it.
There are those who would say that I should have just quit anyways and that it's wrong to be a working mother. To those people: I would do anything to make sure my family has what they need. I wanted to "just quit" every single day that I was back at work, but I had a contract to fulfill and a family to protect.
I knew in my very heart of hearts, however, that I was supposed to be home. I taught my students nouns and verbs and Shakespeare. I did everything that I was supposed to do, but I knew that my calling was no longer with them. As I've said before, I had to believe that God wanted me home, too. That He wanted me to be happy and to have the desires of my heart. I had no idea how it would happen, but I had to have faith.
That morning however-October 8, 2009-I was not a picture of faith. I sat in my car and cried, I kicked the floorboard of my car and pounded my fists on the dashboard. I threw a hissy fit in front of God and begged Him to save me and He made me walk in that building anyway. You see, sometimes, there would be no point in having faith if we were just handed whatever we wanted without any discomfort.
To see where I was on that day a year ago, and to see where I am now......well, it just doesn't make any sense on this earth. Thank God that He's the master planner because I, with my two year-old temper tantrums, definitely would have messed things up! Thank God that I'm not where I was and I'm not who I was.
Now, I am going to go back to bed and cuddle my sweet boy some more before he gets too big.