When my child’s caregiver mentioned that I was the only new mother she’d ever met who didn’t shed a tear on my first day back at work after maternity leave, a small part of me felt a sense of accomplishment. However, a larger part of me couldn’t help but question my love for my child.
As I walked to the subway on my second day as a working mom, I imagined a black heart emoji floating above me, a constant reminder of what I believed others might think. Surely, there had to be something wrong with me for not crying as I said goodbye to my little one. Why wasn’t I moved to tears when she cooed innocently in response to my promise of returning later? Why wasn’t the thought of our longest separation thus far distressing? The idea of pumping instead of nursing for several hours was daunting, and I wouldn’t even know how many times she pooped until the nanny reported back. I wouldn’t even find out if she had managed to suck her thumb until I got a text.
But the reality was that three months into being a mother, I was eager to reclaim a part of my former life. My decision to return to work wasn’t fraught with anguish; rather, it felt liberating. The time spent with my newborn was filled with cherished moments, yet it confirmed that staying at home wasn’t for me. As my return date approached, I felt a growing excitement for the 8- to 10-hour workdays ahead, where I could engage with colleagues, eat without holding a baby, and use the restroom without juggling a diaper bag. I trusted the caregiver I had chosen after interviewing numerous candidates, and I knew that keeping a sliver of my pre-baby identity intact was essential for my mental health.
Naturally, I miss my little girl during the workday. I wish I could hold her and see her bright smile more often. However, I haven’t experienced any real emotional turmoil during our time apart, nor have I cried at the thought of leaving her. And you know what? That’s perfectly fine.
I am not heartless simply because I enjoy my time away from home. I genuinely love both my job and my daughter. I’m not the black heart emoji; I’m the vibrant pink heart with sparkles around it, even if I have to remind myself that there’s no single “right” way to be a mother. For more insights into parenting and fertility, check out this article on intracervical insemination.
In summary, being a working mom doesn’t diminish my love for my child; it enhances my fulfillment as an individual. I’ve found a balance that works for my family and me, and that’s what truly matters.