So sad...

Being a working mom, I fear many things. I have second guessed my choice and third guessed it and so on....

Flashback to several weeks ago as I prepared myself to go back to work, and I let my son go spend his days with a new babysitter. I had doubts, but everyone reassured me. I reassured myself. After a few days with the new sitter, mother's intuition started to creep up, and little signs started to point me in a scary direction. First, a hellacious diaper rash makes me question if she changes him regularly. Next, a suspicious rash around his neck, drool stains on his car seat, and a new, overt hatred of his car seat, all point to long hours of time spent in his car seat. We talk with her, she reassures us, and we all go about our business. I go to my daycare guru, my sister. I ask, " How do I know? How do I know that she loves on him enough? How do I know that I not being to overbearing? Am I being hypercritical of the situation?" My wise older sister says to me, "Annie, you have to go with your gut. You'll know if something's not right. You'll know."

Flash forward to two weeks ago when I followed the sitter into the nursery. Andrew played happily on the floor as my eyes scanned the room. Three, six, seven, eight, and Andrew makes nine. My heart dropped. I felt nauseous. What's going on? She's only allowed six, right? I didn't say anything. I'm holding my son, counting and recounting, but I can't muster up a word. I make it to the car, and I call Chris. Then, that number starts to play with my mind. Nine kids. Wait, I didn't see the two babies in there that usually spend their days with Andrew. Where were they? They make eleven. Yikes, this can't be right.


That night, Chris and I talk about the situation, and he decides to talk to the Health department. We don't want to cause trouble we just want to touch base. Luckily, the health department just did one of their semiannual random inspections, and she passed with flying colors! Phew! One thing: she doesn't have Andrew listed as being at the daycare that day. Hmmm... He was there that day. Uh, oh.


Flash forward to a week ago. The Health inspector does another random check, and no Andrew. We assure her that Chris dropped Andrew at the sitter that morning. Later that day, a different health inspector goes. He questions, " Are there any other babies are sleeping in another room?" She answers no. "How old is the youngest baby you have?" Ten months. Wrong again, my dear woman. Andrew should be there, and Andrew is only seven months old. Now the health inspector calls Chris, "Are you sure your wife didn't pick Andrew up already?" Gulp. Chris calls me and shares this.


For the next eleven minutes, I shake uncontrollably and tears stream down my face. I know he's there. He has to be there, but he's just hidden. I start to feel ill. That thought dances around my head: he's hidden. He's hidden and, even worse, that means he's alone. He's hidden, alone. No one is watching him because he has to be hidden for her to "pass" with the health inspector. I can't calm myself down until the phone vibrates in my hand. Deep breath, it's Chris's cell phone. In a muffled voice, he says "Andrew's here. I have him, and he's fine. I'll call you back." The weight from my shoulders lifts, and I just wish I could be the one holding him. I know he's fine now, but I want him. I want him with me. I want to kiss his sweet, round cheeks, and I want to squeeze the rolls on his legs. I want him now.


I left work, and waited for Chris to bring me my baby. At that point, Andrew was my baby and mine alone. (Sorry Daddy.) Once he was in my arms, I settled down considerably. (Sometimes nursing helps mommy, too.)

Poor Chris had to deal with seeing this woman meltdown and as her livelihood crumbled in front of her and her children. We felt so guilty about what we had done to her. What?!@ I know. We just keep reminding ourselves we did the right thing.

The next day, Chris and I took the day off to find a new daycare for Andrew. Here is the feeling I had: Well, I picked the last sitter, and it was a horrible mistake. How do I know that this one will be better? I had to walk in circles to had tear-filled eyes when Chris asked all the important questions about breast milk and daily routines. Not only were all the good places taken, but the directors of these places couldn't believe we didn't have arrangements already in place. Then we would simply share that our previous arrangement "didn't work out".

After 24 hours of stress (more if you consider the week of worry before), we found a fabulous place (which I won't name here) for the baby. Needless to say, it fosters a completely open concept with no places to hide babies. ("Take that baby hider!", I say as I shake my angry fist in the air.) :)

He seems to really love this new place. With the constant interaction from his two caregivers and the other infants, Andrew is making some serious developmental progress. He's eating solids like nobody's business (Steak fingers, anyone?), getting closer to crawling (backwards is a direction, too), and he can sit up on his own!

Well, I started this post LONG ago. I had to stop on numerous occasions because as you all know, I am a tender soul. Every emotion comes with tears, and luckily I am done with tears over this situation. There are so many joyful tears to shed over this fabulous baby. So, stayed tuned for posts like Steak Finger Sassy, The Baby Siren, and having to change work clothes after.... well, you'll have to tune in to hear details.

Although the post will say 9/23/08, I am finally able to finish it and put this issue to bed on a cool Sunday morning... October 5.

Here's to being a peanut.
;)

Anne