As I sit here and listen to her cry, I wonder if the decision I made was the right one. Is everything I gave up worth this? Am I strong enough to handle, not only the ridicule that comes from choosing family over career, but the overwhelming guilt of having to abandon my students that has infected my soul like the plague?
I try to take into perspective the old cliché that everything happens for a reason. I try to believe Kevin when he jokes that the grass fires that nearly engulfed my previous home in New Mexico, and the RSV that seemed to have found a permanent home in this child for whom I am now responsible, were all signs from God that I was ignoring. God was telling me that I had finally become weak. Yes me, the woman who raised three children while working two jobs and simultaneously completing seven years of college had finally crashed. I actually needed a support system. For me, however, this child’s crying—blood-curdling screams, rather—negate God’s said motives.
Before Karleigh, I had never been a stay-at-home mom, and, in fact, I had always had this notion that one’s self-worth came from one’s ability to provide for one’s family in every realm: nursemaid, financial guru, therapist, housecleaner, etc. In order to be a “real” woman, one must have the capability to perform juggling acts that not even the Ringling Brothers could ever fathom. A month ago I fit that mold, and, therefore, in my mind I epitomized the successful woman of today. But, after one week of staying home with this extremely needy infant, this being that was thrust into my life without warning, I quickly learned that the mom who stays home to raise her children has a job that compares to, what I imagine, equals a sweat-shop in a third world country.
As parents we hope that our children make better choices than we did. We hope that they are spared from the idiocy that tends to encapsulate us as teens, rendering us into a somewhat subhuman form until we realize that yes our parents knew exactly what they were talking about. We hope that by some small miracle the product of our procreation has been blessed with an intellectual gene that eradicates all forms of stupidity. Unfortunately, parents are inevitably delusional. Alas, it is my delusion that has placed me here, with a child that is not my own, but instead my daughter’s.
Mackenzie was one of those kids that teachers just cannot mentally penetrate having ever been bad. She was one of those soft-spoken, shy children who, in my mind, simply had self-esteem issues. I had a low self-esteem and I turned out okay, so I was not overly concerned. She was also, for many reasons unbeknownst to me at the time, extremely high-risk for behavioral issues, and, therefore, eventually succumbed to that destiny. As a parent, I thought we had surpassed the teen pregnancy worry when she turned twenty. Reality would teach me, though, that even into our twenties, our parenting skills do not always excel even those of young teens. Sometimes, females are just not equipped—whether it is emotionally or psychologically—with the maternal love needed to make rational decisions for her child. The animal kingdom deals with this issue as well. Fortunately for animals (or perhaps unfortunately for those who have never been in my current position), they do not have the complex human emotions that lead to feelings of guilt or a sense of obligation.
And so it was those innate human maternal instincts that I bear, but apparently did not pass on to my daughter, that forced me to do exactly what I swore I would never do: raise my grandchild. And so it was that decision that has left me wondering if the choice I made is one that I can handle. Is temporarily giving up my career, my passion for teaching, going to cause me to become resentful? Has this decision to take a leave of absence ruined my reputation as a teacher? After all, who would hire a teacher who sacrificed her career and perhaps even her students’ capability to learn because they are now being taught by a substitute so that this teacher could be closer to that support system God was hinting that she needed? Am I being selfish for even worrying about this?
I sit here cradling this innocent child in my arms, and even moral obligation cannot dismiss my need to feel alive again. I feel like a part of who I am is slowly meandering into a new place, far away from the core of my soul. When Karleigh cries, which she does more than any child I have ever known, I often cringe and find myself wanting to disregard the fact that I even have a twenty year old daughter. I want so badly to take back my decision to raise another baby, and instead walk into my classroom and lecture; I want to read the writings of my students’, but not from four-hundred miles away. I want to tell them how proud I am of them for maintaining their grades even with the inconsistency that has enveloped the instruction in their current writing class.
While my career is at jeopardy due to this change in my life, my marriage has maintained its stability. And although my husband and I no longer have the freedoms we once had to spend time alone, we have found in each other a certain sense of eternal devotion; one that cannot be understood through marital vows or even conception of a biological child. This allegiance is one that is slowly changing my previous outlook on human loyalty.
While Karleigh naps, I think about what I hope to gain from this current detour my life has now taken; it is not the bitterness that attempts to envelop my psyche each day, but instead a new respect for that stay-at-home mom whose personal struggles not even my typed words could allow you to visualize. I hope to someday accept that it is not a career that defines a woman, but the woman who defines the concept of a career.
