When Jackson and Gracie were born, I had no trouble finding child care. For Jackson, we interviewed a few in-home daycares and picked the one we felt best about. We ended up switching to a different one after a few months, but it was easy to find an in-home daycare for him. With Grace, we already had a daycare because of Jackson.
When Elliot was born, I spent the first four months of his life with him – every minute of every day. I started to work remotely almost immediately after he was born and gradually increased my hours; by December, I was working almost full-time but completely remotely. But then, in December, I was asked to return to the office.
I spent many distraught days trying to wrap my head around the idea of leaving my perfect baby. The thought of having someone else care for him so I could go to the office broke my heart. Many nights, I awoke overnight and sobbed at the thought of not being able to spend every minute of every day with my adorable, happy, sweet little guy. It felt as wrong as anything has ever felt before.
Logically, I knew that daycare wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a child, and so I started searching for childcares for my baby. It turns out that there is a huge daycare shortage in Colorado – very few childcare centers have openings at all, and many are on months- or years-long waiting lists. Elliot would have aged out of the infant room by the time many of these facilities had openings.
We did eventually find one in-home daycare with an opening. It wasn’t a great fit; it was close to the house and the provider seemed nice, but it was expensive and she did not allow discounts for part-time care. Still, on the set day, I took my baby to her house and went to work, missing him the entire time.
He missed me, too. He cried the whole time he was in her care, and wouldn’t take a bottle. He was Persephone in the depths of Hades, refusing to eat until reunited with his Demeter. Still, we tried again later that week. And again, he hated it. My happy little guy cried and cried.
The next day was a Saturday, and he woke up with a fever. Grace had awakened overnight with the fever shakes, but his came on slowly. By the following Tuesday, he was struggling to breathe, and the doctor confirmed he had RSV and bronchiolitis. She informed me that the only reason he was allowed to go home on oxygen instead of being hospitalized was that he was so happy. Ironic, isn’t it?
During the week that he was so sick, the new daycare called to tell me that she’d filled Elliot’s spot with someone else. She just couldn’t take care of a baby that cried all day and wouldn’t eat.
At that point, we were out of options for childcare. I didn’t even know who to call, because it was a lucky fluke that we’d even found the one place. For the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope that I’d get to be with my baby for a little longer, that my desperate pleas to the universe had been answered. It was a morbid hope; my income had been our only steady income for months, and without it, we might have nothing on which to live.
I knew I needed to find childcare so I could return to the office, even though my job is capable of being done entirely remotely. (And even though I had been DOING my job remotely for months.) It was a rock and a hard place – I needed to find childcare, which wasn’t available, but I also needed to be with my baby with the deepest yearning of my soul.
Sometimes the universe provides in unexpected ways.
It wasn’t too long before my employer grew tired of accommodating my childcare situation. In March, I was required to come in on the day of a blizzard so that I could have a meeting with the executive director, the assistant executive director, and my direct supervisor (who had only been there for a few days at that point). At that meeting, I was told I had eight weeks to find childcare or I would not have a job – I would be considered to have resigned, since I could not fulfill their requirement that I be in the office at least three 8-hour days per week. I asked for an accommodation – I asked to be a full-time remote employee, which I’d been doing already for months – but was denied. That just wouldn’t work, they said, blaming it on the new person (who looked mortified to be thrown under the bus in her second week there – privately, she told me that she is very accommodating, but this was not her decision).
I spent many, many days distraught after this meeting, and many, many nights not sleeping. I really like what I do, and I’m good at it. I didn’t want to give up my career, but I also could not, could NOT, bear the thought of being separated from my sweet baby. I felt resentful at being forced to choose between my job and my child, and hated the fact that anyone would try to poison my relationship with my baby by forcing me to choose something else over him. But every time I looked at his sweet face, I knew there was no choice. All I can do is smile when I see him. He brings so much warmth and joy to our entire family.
And, there was still the issue that I had no options for childcare. I had been able to scramble together care for the one day a week I had been going into the office, but it wasn’t a regular thing and I would not be able to rely on it forever. I certainly wouldn’t be able to extend it into three full days per week. And even if somehow, miraculously, I could have found care for Elliot, school is almost out for the summer and I have no one to care for Grace and Jackson. (It’s extraordinarily hard to find care for Grace, since she is a cognitively-intact kid who needs help in the bathroom.)
The rock and hard place got even rockier and harder. The sleepless nights and stressed out days continued, and many, many tears were shed.
But again, sometimes the universe provides in unexpected ways. Sometimes things that seem so terrible turn out to be not that bad, after all.
Through all these years at my job, I’ve made many, many connections. Through some of these connections, I learned of remote job opportunities I didn’t know existed. I also learned that some of these connections would hire me the moment they had the chance to. Some of them were eager for me to be on the job market so that they could scoop me up. Others were willing to write letters of recommendation for me, many of which brought tears to my eyes. I had no idea I’d had such an impact on the people I worked with. It seemed that everyone I asked was eager to help me, and the praises they uttered were humbling and beautiful. They all recognized my worth, even when I struggled to see it.
It is the end of the eight-week ultimatum period, and soon I will no longer be employed. The future is uncertain and scary. But through this time, I’ve learned what is truly important to me. There is nothing in my life that means more to me than my children. There is no job that is worth sacrificing my children, no matter how great the paycheck or health insurance. I don’t know what we’ll do long-term. I don’t know how we’ll pay our bills, whether we’ll have health insurance, what’s going to happen. But I do know that I belong here, with my children. I will never look back and regret choosing them over a job. They are more precious than anything else.
Sometimes, the universe provides in unexpected ways. I am trying to be hopeful that everything will work out, and the universe will provide a way for me to be with my children while still having a job. Because sometimes, things that seem the darkest are really just a prelude to the brightest light.