Being a Working Mother

My dearest Colette, I feel the need to write to you now, while I am at work, to tell you how much I love you and how I wish I didn't have to be here but could be at home, cuddling you in my arms... It is 4:02am on Thursday, August 22nd, 2013. I am halfway through my second night back to work at St. Joseph Mercy Hospital, Ann Arbor on 7 East, cardiac progressive care. I got this job back in December, already aware of you inside of me. I never imagined myself being a working mother. In fact, I detested the thought of any woman leaving her child. However, due to your dad's current work situation and a heap of college loans, I have been forced to do what I would never have imagined myself doing. Work. It is such a struggle, a struggle that only I can understand. Due to the culture, and a belief that two incomes is necessary for a family to survive, everyone around me is telling me it will be okay. Each has their own reasons for working, but it seems that almost all the women in my life are working mothers. But why must it be my fate? I love you and never want you out of my site. I am ridden with guilt and need you to know how terribly painful every moment away from you is. It is such a blessing that I work night shift. I have so much peace leaving you in the care of your dad. He loves you so much and I am so glad that you get to have this special time together. I am still so afraid though, that you will be in someway altered by not having me around. I pray that you don't feel alone or abandoned. You are my greatest treasure and I love every moment with you. I am angry at the so many mothers I know of that work although they don't need to, the mothers who don't work but still hire babysitters all the time or put their children in daycare so they can live their selfish lives, the mothers who don't realize how short and precious this life, your life, is. You are my joy. Please forgive me for leaving you.