Some of you may find this disturbing but I ran out of breast milk storage bags, last week, and had to find a quick solution for transporting a few servings worth of milk to my mom's house. Ironic (and somewhat ridiculous) that the best container I had was a milk jug.
Susan has left, Maggie is sleeping, the house is quiet and I've found my self in a reflective mood. I've been thinking a lot about myself as a mother and wondering how I'm doing. Particularly what it means to be a working mother and whether or not it's the best thing for Maggie. In some respects, I feel like maintaining my career may make me a better parent. Because I love what I do and am passionate about my work, I feel like it adds dimension to who I am as a person. That has to transfer to Maggie, right? And maybe as she grows up she'll see that it's possible to take pleasure in work and she'll be encouraged and look forward to finding her own niche. Maybe.
The guilt comes in when I recognize that there are 30 hours in every week that I spend away from her. The poor thing is only four months old. Biologically we should be together. I'm almost ashamed to admit, though, that I wouldn't necessarily want that... I enjoy working too much.
Should I feel guilty about that? I don't know. I really probably shouldn't be dwelling on these things. It can't be healthy.
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