Before my first son was born, I obsessed about who would
take care of him when I returned to work. I vividly recall standing in my
kitchen about 7 months pregnant when the wife of one of husband’s colleagues
called. She had a young son and was pregnant again. She wanted to let me
know she decided to stay home and start an in-house day care. I was
thrilled. I felt the relief flow over my swollen body.
However, as
with many firsts in motherhood, there were complexities I didn’t
appreciate. She had never run an in-home day care. She got sick;
her child got sick. And she took vacations and other time off.
Whenever she could not be there, I needed to find a back up. I was an
associate at a large law firm. I negotiated a work-from-home arrangement a couple
days a week but the remaining days were by necessity long to compensate.
Even so, we
managed with only the occasional difficult patch of a late pick up or
last-minute scramble for coverage -- until I got a new job in the far
suburbs. With a longer commute and no more telecommuting for at least 6
months, I needed to get close to the original hours she said she would be
available. Her response to my request was, “When he is here longer than
8-9 hours, I start to resent him.” I felt like someone put a dagger
through my heart. Unwelcome tears welled in my eyes at her words.
I felt torn in
half. I didn’t want someone with those feelings to continue caring for my
child. I also did not want to disrupt my son’s early life as he seemed
generally happy. I decided try to make it work with her. But she
was unwilling to accommodate the hours I needed even for a defined
period.
Although part
of me was devastated that my son’s well being did not mean more to her, I also
felt a bit of relief. .. since deep down I didn’t trust her anymore. We ended
up in another in-home day care. This mom had 5 kids, mostly older. My son
was enthralled with the bustle of a full house as well as being the center of
attention of many. This situation worked much smoother. She had
done this for years and was much more comfortable with the routine. I
realized I was naïve thinking because someone wanted to they would necessarily
embrace the role and be excellent at it -- it is truly a extremely
challenging one.
Once we moved to be closer to my job, we decided to move
him to a true day care. I wanted the stability of set hours and a
curriculum that would prepare my child for school. My son started at eighteen
months and immediately took to it. He particularly enjoyed the variety of
activities including channeling his inner karate kid. With my second son born
on his brother’s birthday four years later, I completely avoided the child care
angst. I happily put him into the same daycare. He was a
favorite. I recall one young woman was moved from his room because she
spent too much time with him and not enough with the other children.
When we adopted our daughter seven years later, the angst
came back with a vengeance. I had to ask myself what child care option
was right for her. I found I was taken back to those waning moments of my
first pregnancy and when I needed to find another caregiver after the first one
didn’t work out. I faced a similar but even deeper uncertainty.
Since I knew little about her early life, I felt less equipped to make the
decision and forced myself to be open.
I was talking
about it with her 11-year-old brother. I said, “We might need to get a
nanny for Leyla. She might not be ready for day care.” His reaction
was quick and emphatic, “I don’t like that idea.” He is known for sharing
his opinion irrespective of whether you asked for it.
I asked, “Why
not?” unsure of what his answer might be but curious nonetheless. He
said, “Well, the way I see it, she will be doing your job.” Ouch!
That is exactly how I felt about it when I first considered a nanny for him a
decade earlier. I wanted it to be about my new daughter, not my preference and
insecurity. I wondered if his answer reflected the later . . .As it turns out, she was a lot like her brothers. She loved her day care and was quite a favorite there herself. She saw herself as an honorary member of the staff. She liked to play pretend where she is a teacher and her brothers are the preschoolers. One day she too might have to face the decision of what child care option is best for her baby. She is pictured here giving instructions to her doll. When she pretends she is the “mommy” and tells me, “Give a kiss, mommy’s gotta go to work now,” it makes me smile and think she will figure it out just fine for herself.
