I Have to Work?

I absolutely, 100%, hated being pregnant. Ok, maybe not completely. It was amazing having so much love build from within for a tiny human my body was creating and having that tiny human turn my insides into a pinball machine. But, I really hated being pregnant. Having fibromyalgia is nothing compared to having fibromyalgia while pregnant and not being able to medicate. I had a very difficult time with body aches and pains, swelling, all day morning sickness, carpel tunnel, and depression, as most pregnant women do. I felt like I had the flu times one thousand. I couldn't stand for long periods of time without getting out of breathe or feeling like I was going to die. By the 41st week, I was begging my doctor to get him out. 

The day I had Ansel, I felt like I had been reborn with a new, tired, but all new body (and I'm maintaining medication free). No more wanting to chop my legs off or screaming for a "just in case" trash bag because I was too fat to run for it myself. No more cankles. No more worrying if my water was going to break while walking down the aisle in my sisters wedding three days after my due date. Oh, that was a truly interesting day.

Now, to quote a client of mine, I'm "high on baby". I never want to leave him. Can I superglue him to my chest? Is that child abuse? I mean, at some point won't he have an I hate mommy phase? And we can get past that while being in such close proximity, right? I have two parts of my mind trying to weigh the option of being a stay at home mom or a working mom.

The Working Mom. If I go back to work, LittleMan will hate me. Plain and simple. As soon as I try to leave for work, he will start spitting fire and casting lightning bolts out of the sky, unleash fifty million flying monkeys, and put banana peels under my shoes when I walk. My son will try to kill me. Not only will he win, because I will die inside when I get back in my car to leave, but he will feel abandoned for the rest of his life. He will never find a bride (or groom, you never know) because every date he ever goes on will start as follows: 

The Date- So tell me a little about yourself. What do you do? What kind of music do you listen to?

LittleMan- My mom abandoned me when I was 5 weeks old

The surprised Date- Oh, what happened?

LittleMan- She went back to work

The confused Date- Oh... Ok. And she never came back?

LittleMan- No, my mother or father picked me up from my grandma's every evening. (Pause) I tried to kill her by banana peel.

The terrified Date- Oh

The Stay at Home Mom. HobbyHubby will hate me. Not only will I be able to stay in my pajamas all day, I won't have to deal with the general public when I don't feel like it. I can sit back and watch the world through social media sites, completely alienate Ansel and myself, become hermits, or better yet start a colony like something out of the movie Mad Max (if you don't recognize that movie title, shame on you). He will be so jealous when he comes home from work, LittleMan and I have painted our faces like Pan's Lost Boys, and have captured a squirrel and successfully taught it to fetch. 

Financially, I must go back to work. At least I am returning to a career I'm very passionate about with a great team of coworkers and an amazing clientele. Maybe I can win the lottery or convince Oprah to give me alotta cash money so LittleMan and SuperMom can play all day. Here's to wishful thinking.