Letting it all hang out...

Today, I am being brutally honest. I've had very little sleep over the past two nights and, in addition to making me tired, sluggish, and a bit cranky, it makes me completely frank. Be forewarned: this post is not gonna be nice.

Something is wrong with Abby. She's not sleeping well, she woke up from a nap at daycare yesterday screaming, she has a horrible diaper rash on her bottom, and her nose has been running like a faucet the last two days. Carey picked her up early from daycare yesterday and took her to the pediatrician's office. After a thorough check-up, the doctor concluded that Abby might have a little bit of a cold, but there's nothing wrong with her otherwise.

Well, after another night of very little sleep, I beg to differ. Something is wrong, I just don't know what it is. And that bothers me. I came very close to complete meltdown last night. I was holding Abby as she cried, and then I began crying. I cried because I hadn't been there when she needed me in the afternoon. I cried because I no longer knew what her cry meant. I cried because it seems that she can't be in daycare for more than two weeks without getting sick. I cried because I no longer feel that my office is sensitive to my need to take off time to care for my sick child. I cried because I feel like I am missing out on Abigail growing up. I cried to let out all the fear, anxiety, anger, guilt, frustration, and fatigue that was in me. Carey came in to take Abby from me, and I collapsed by the side of our bed. My tears became sobs. I couldn't hear, see, or feel anything; the only thing I was conscious of was this dull ache growing in my heart. Between sobs, I remember saying "I am her mom" over and over again, almost like I was trying to convince myself.

I really don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold it together. (Although, after last night, I don't really know if I can say that I am holding it together.) I don't want to work. I want to stay home with Abigail. I want to be there when she wakes up from her naps. I want to be the one to feed her and play with her and comfort her when she falls and see her smile when she watches a car drive by. I want to be there. But we have a mortgage. Carey and I decided that it was important that Abigail have a home to grow up in. Our tiny, one-bedroom apartment in Hoboken was barely big enough for the two of us, forget trying to fit in a baby. Plus, Hoboken is a very expensive place to live. I know that we made the right decision. Abigail has her own room and a backyard that she'll be able to play in when she gets older and two cousins that live two houses away and so many people who love her so close by. I know that we made the right choice when we decided to move to Long Island. I'm just having a really hard time living on Long Island, leaving my baby on Long Island, and working in New York City...

Carey, who was a bit shocked at the strength and duration of my breakdown last night, just sat there next to me until I had calmed down enough to hear him over my pain. He said that we'll sit down and look at the situation this weekend. We'll see what we can do. I guess I have to hold onto this hope right now. The hope that somehow, something will work out...