Brigham was up early yesterday morning. Like 5:30 a.m. early. So I brought him to bed with me and put on a show for him to watch while I
slept some more tried to wake up. Next thing I know he was puking on the floor and crying out for me because little ones get confused when their tummy brings it all back up. I quickly took him into the bathroom as he continued to vomit. I knew then it would be a rough day. My mother-in-law was there to take care of them. But I’m his mama. It should be me holding him tight when he’s sick, shouldn’t it?
I text my boss and told her I would be late. When really I wished I could say – I won’t be in . . . ever.
It’s days like yesterday that make me resentful. It’s days like yesterday that make me want to throw in the towel and never leave my babies ever. I didn’t want to leave. But I eventually had to make myself.
On the ride to work I was mad. Mad that my mind had to be elsewhere when really it was nowhere else but with Brigham. I started thinking of all the reasons I can’t be a stay at home mom. It is our fault. It is because of some of our stupid decisions that I don’t have the freedom to hold him when he’s sick. I sit there and I wish, I wish, I wish for a different path because this one involves working hard every day of my life. Working away memories that will never be made.
I try not to think this way. I try to remain grateful for where I am in this life. There is a reason for it. But when I think that we are the reason, well, it cuts me open because we could have made different choices. Could’a, should’a, would’a. Those kind of thoughts suck.
Before I left yesterday Brigham held onto me and said, “Stay with me, mama.”
I choked down the lump in my throat and told him I couldn’t. I left him there on the sofa and walked away heartsick and wishing.