So Let’s Stick Together

Got inadvertently mom-shamed today for being a working mom.

On the phone, she said “I know my better daughter than anyone. I’m home with her and I raised her. I don’t put my shoes on and walk out the door in the morning.”

Ouch.

It wasn’t directed at me. But, I mean, it was. Because I do.

She probably doesn’t know that I still cry most of the time when I get in the car, even after 14 months of working. She probably doesn’t know that I spend my Sundays preparing all of her snacks and food for the week so that even though I’m not there, I know she’s eating healthy. She probably doesn’t know I gave up sleep for 13 months because I couldn’t bear to put her down half the time, for guilt of not being with her during the day. She probably doesn’t know that I still nurse her, in spite of how difficult it was to get this far. She probably doesn’t know that every. single. minute. that I’m at work, I’m missing her and wondering what she’s doing.

But that doesn’t matter. All some people see is a mom who leaves her baby for nine hours a day.

She also probably doesn’t know that I got this job because of my sister’s mental illness, and I wanted to make sure no one else has to endure what she did. Or that I worked my ass off to get that job. Or that I’m proud of the difference I am making (most days) in spite of everything working against us. Or that I am working to show Soley that she can be and do anything she wants, and she’s damn well smart enough to do it, too. And that it’s okay to be a mom AND have a job you love, if that’s what is important to you.

Of course I’d rather be home with my baby. And someday I will be. But today, I put my shoes on and walked out the door to watch over YOUR daughter, and left mine at home. Because it takes a village.

So let’s stick together.