Well, yesterday was my first day back to work. Addie made it through the day with Daddy, and she had a great day. I was a little sad to hear this because misery always loves company....
My day began at 3:30 in the morning. Adelaide woke up crying, and I couldn't (notice - not Addie, but me), I couldn't get back to sleep. I laid awake in bed, very uncomfortable, and periodically crying until 5:45 am. I decided to just get up and shower. I just wanted the day to be over with.
I know some of you are thinking, "She is this torn about leaving her daughter?" And the answer is a resounding YES, but what made this day especially difficult was returning to a job that I now completely hate. I had no desire to sit through a day of presentations and meetings, was not looking forward to an unbearably hot working environment, and for the first time in my life, dreaded going to my job.
I was ready well before 7am, and I had to keep myself busy. Around 7, Addie woke up, I dressed her, and off I went. As my husband walked me to the car, I completely broke down. I sobbed like I watched someone shoot a dog in a movie (ever watch Old Yeller?). I have never felt that awful in my life.
When I arrived at work, I proceeded to breakdown at least three more times- each time in private - but at least three more times. While listening to presentations, I found myself completely understanding those "cynical" people I work with who like to preach about the "Us V. Them" mentality. They spew how "They" are just full of hot air, don't care about "Us," and will be deceptive at every moment. Not only did I hate myself for agreeing with them, I hated knowing they were right all along.
To make matters worse, as the day progressed I became increasingly more uncomfortable and to the point of being in pain. My baby boy twin eventually lodged himself into my hip and must have been pressing on a nerve. By the time I left, I was in tears because I could barely walk.
When I imagined my arrival home, my daughter would be waiting by the door smiling and reaching for me. We would hug or "squeeze" as we call it, and I would feel a little better knowing I was home. But that did not happen. When I arrived home, my daughter was napping, and I couldn't move without cringing. I spent the greater part of the afternoon vacillating between tears and agony. When she awoke, she wanted little to nothing to do with me, and by the time we went to bed I was in so much pain, I couldn't move.
Last night I cried myself to sleep.
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