The Daycare Dilemma: First Time Mothers and Infant Daycare

As I said in the first article of this series, "First Time Motherhood: the Good, the Bad, and the Crazy," I am a working mother. My eight and a half month son goes to daycare. He has been in daycare since he was sixth months old. I cried at the thought of my child going to daycare from the fourth month of my pregnancy until two months after he started. In fact, I cried when I dropped him off the other morning. Thus, you may be thinking, "Well then why don't you give up your fancy cars and fancy life and stay home with your son where you belong! Commie."

So here is the deal: at this point, I have to work. Period. No ifs, ands, or buts. It isn't to maintain fancy cars (we drive a truck my husband's parents gave us, and a Pacifica) or a fancy lifestyle. The necessity of both me and my husband working existed long before getting married. It turns out a law degree, even from a wonderful and cheap school like Florida State University College of Law (which I highly recommend by the way!) can set you back about $60k. It also turns out that generally speaking, if you don't finish in the top 10% of your class, you will not be making much money at your first job. Couple this with some stupid decisions (my favorite being the purchase of a turquoise Miata that was slightly difficult for a 6'0 tall woman like myself to fit into) and I immediately had beaucoup amounts of debt. After meeting the man of my dreams, getting married, moving four times, and getting pregnant, we knew we were going to both have to work for a while. We couldn't afford a nanny, and I was uncomfortable with home daycares. That left "professional" daycares.

The next obstacle was finding a daycare that had availability for an infant. We live in a small town in Florida, and there is an incredible lack of quality infant care. Our first choice told us the wait list was two years, but we could put our unborn child on the list if we liked. Yeah, I'm not kidding. I was like, "Um, how do you even write that? Unborn Baby P.? Geesh." It took two tries, many nights of sobbing and worry and panic, but my son is now in a daycare that I am extremely happy with. The women in the nursery are fantastic, have been there for twenty years, and obviously care a great deal for the babies. I finally don't worry every single second while at work about the wellbeing of my son. There is no longer a huge black storm cloud hanging over my every minute. However, I think about him every single second, and I always will. I will think about him all the time whether he is 2, 12, or 22. I will always worry about his wellbeing, his happiness, his growth. I guess its just part of the whole mom thing. (Virgin Mary Club again, I'm telling you!)

When people find out you have a baby, the first question is, "Oh, do you stay home with him?" When I answer no, about eight out of ten people then ask, "Oh. Is he in daycare?" Note that the word "daycare" is said in the same tone as one might say "death camp" or "New Kids on the Block concert." My response is something like: "Why yes, he is in a wonderful daycare where he is very well cared for and extremely happy." My smile is so bright and cheery that animals in the wild could possibly mistake it for a snarl of warning. Unfortunately, animals are often much smarter than humans. Out of the eight people who asked, about 6 then state, "Well, that must be terrible! I wasn't able to leave my babies with strangers; I just couldn't do such an awful thing! Thankfully I was able to stay home and raise my children like God intended." This comment that is offensive on so many different levels is said with a gentle smile and accompanying pat on my shoulder. Meanwhile, I am thinking of all the awful things I can say to this individual, maybe something like "If I were ugly and fat like you I would want to stay home and out of public places too. They kill people in Texas for looking like that."

But, I never do. Instead, I internalize the insults, the insinuation that I am a failure, the unspoken truth that I am an awful mother, and that my son is suffering. I try not to cry as I picture the unhappy and dysfunctional teenager my son will turn into, all because he had to go to daycare. And now, now that he has been in daycare for almost three months, now that I see how wonderful they are to him and how happy he is and how much he is thriving, now it finally doesn't hurt quite as much.

It will always hurt to leave my son. I will always wish I had more time with him. I will never be completely satisfied with the way things are. But every day I get more and more ok with it, because the simple truth is that it has to be this way for now. And the worst thing I could do for my son or for my family is to continue moping and crying every night.

Our children pick up on our emotions. When I am happy, Amy son is happy. When I am sad, he becomes quiet and watchful. When we step into the nursery every morning and his teacher gives him a kiss and hug, he gives her a huge smile and laugh, and then glances at me, seeking my response. Babies are extremely perceptive, and no matter how I may feel deep down, my baby always sees a big smile on my face. I leave a happy, healthy child with competent and caring people Monday through Friday. This does not mean that I am a bad mother, or that I don't care. This does not mean that my son will be dysfunctional, or unhappy. This only means that my husband and I are trying the best that we can, and this is the situation that works.

You may have thought you would get to the end of this article with a neat and tidy resolution, where I state with absolute certainty that daycare is wonderful, working is awesome, everything is fantastic, and I was ridiculous for worrying or being sad. As I said in my first article, I am not writing with any certainty. I am only writing to tell you that I understand, that I am going through the same thing, and that every day I get to watch my child grow is a blessed and wonderful day.

I may write here in another year that my husband is now able to stay home with our son, that we hired a nanny, that we won the lottery and are traveling the world. I don't really know. But what I do know, without a doubt, is that every moment with my son is precious and treasured. Because I do not see him all day Monday through Friday, he is all I focus on when we are home together (my husband gets a little attention too) and he is showered with love and affection. I am certain that my family loves each other, that we are lucky in so many ways, and that I am now choosing to focus on the good and positive things in our life, and soak in every moment of our time together .

Yes, my son is in daycare. And yes, you may think I am a bad parent because of that fact. That used to bother me, what you may think. Now, I only care about what my son thinks. And from his sloppy kisses this morning, I get the feeling he thinks I'm pretty all right.