I feel a little sick

So tomorrow is my first full day away from Baby G. Today I was away for 5 hours.

I didn’t die.

I didn’t cry.

Hey, that rhymes!

I went in yesterday at 8am to talk about the “options.” I use that term loosely because it turned out there weren’t options, just a decision. Please keep in mind that is probably the earliest I’ve gotten up (without going back to bed) in months. MONTHS. Almost 6 of them. I didn’t sleep well the night before because I was so nervous. And nauseous. Long story short is they were trying to bring me back in as a supervisor. Which I didn’t want. And the department(s) they wanted to give me were a hellacious mess 6 months ago before I left. I have it on good authority they aren’t much better. So again. Don’t. Want.

I hadn’t wanted to be a supervisor for awhile. But it got especially bad after I got moved last November. You remember. It was the catalyst that started my trek down the deep dark hole I fell into and couldn’t get out of. So I had already been toying with the decision to step down. So now it’s sink or swim. I explained that I wasn’t interested in that life anymore. Earlier mornings and later nights. A lot more responsibility and a lot more headache.

Tomorrow I go in again at 8. I will work until 5. I’m not looking forward to the day or the 8am meeting to discuss my fate. And my pay cut. I don’t like surprises and I hate confrontations. I’m emotional and I don’t want to be put on the spot.

A friend of mine today said she doesn’t think she could be a stay at home mom. That she’d need a few days a week to be around adults. I thought about this a lot today. And I’ve decided I could do it. I’ve been home for very close to six months. I haven’t missed working one bit. I’ve missed my friends but I don’t miss being away from the house. Away from my son. Some people need adult time. Outside-the-home productive time. I don’t think I do. I’d be content being a home-maker. Maybe I’d change my mind down the road but right now I’d be happy to stay home.

So tomorrow I find out what my new job will be. I’m praying God will help it be whats best for my family. And maybe one day I will be able to go part-time. Or maybe we’ll win the lottery. Yeah… I like that idea best.

Advertisements

The road to success is paved with rocks, potholes, and shards of glass. And you’re barefoot.

I hate my job. I really really really hate my job. And I haven’t even been there in almost 6 months. And technically, I don’t even know what my job IS anymore since my last position has been filled. And apparently, no one wants to talk to me about it.

For the last week I have been trying to get someone there to talk to me about my return to work. This obviously hasn’t worked out so well for me as tomorrow was supposed to be my first day back and I won’t be working. I won’t say I’m terribly disappointed to not be going back to work tomorrow. I’ve gotten a “free” week with Baby G and I’m excited about it. What I’m not excited about is the prospect of calling up once again to try to get someone to tell me what the heck is going on.

Let’s back up. Once Baby G came early I knew that 12 weeks off work wasn’t going to be enough with a baby in the NICU. He came home after 6 weeks but that only left 6 weeks of my maternity leave. Six weeks wasn’t enough with my brand new baby. It wasn’t enough and it wasn’t fair. Plus, my sister (the Nanny-Auntie) wasn’t coming until mid-July. So there was the question of what to do with Baby G in the meantime. I wasn’t keen on putting him in daycare (and his Ped didn’t recommend it) or letting someone else watch him in the meantime so I took an extended leave to stay home with him until she could get here. Then there was the question of my job. FMLA only protects your job for 12 weeks. Since I was going to be out quite a bit longer than that I went to talk to my Store Manager. She said my job would be there when I got back and I should be able to keep my same position. I never wanted that stupid position to begin with but whatever. So fast forward a few weeks. I had been praying for a better situation at work. No one is happy there and we needed a change. So I prayed for a change. Soon after I talked to the SM, the entire management staff got removed. Enter brand-new-no-idea-who-I-am management. Not sure if this is the right change or not, but I don’t remember if I specified a good change or not. **Note to self: Be a little more specific in prayers.**

Here’s the problem. Because they could (the newbies hadn’t, after all, been the ones to promise my job to stay), they released my position and filled it. Then, when I came in to talk to them about returning and tried to figure out what I was going to do when I got back they pretty much told me they couldn’t talk to me and things would be decided when I returned. Really? I’m not stupid. You’re not going to give me a random schedule and then decide what my job will be AFTER I get back. You will have decided my fate without giving me any say in the matter and I’ll just get to hear about it when I get back. Thanks.

So back to my current predicament. For the last week I’ve been trying to get some answers. ANY answers. All I’m getting is ignored. I have no idea what my job will be or what schedule I’ll be working. How do I prepare for going back to work without knowing what I will be doing or when I will be working? How do you, as a management staff, not understand that at this point, without ever working with you, I already have a bad taste in my mouth regarding you. How do you, in good conscience, string someone along about coming back to work?

So now I’m sitting here, dreading tomorrow, and feeling slightly ill. I hate this game. It’s already hard enough on me that I have to go back to work. Why does it have to be made harder? I don’t want extra responsibility. I don’t want notoriety. I just want to get a paycheck and then come home to my family. I have no intentions of moving up within the company. EVER. For the first time in my life I just want to be mediocre. I don’t want to stand out. I don’t want to shine.

I just want to go to work, give them my 8 hours, and then come home. Nothing more. Oh yeah, and I want my darn schedule.

Two Pink Lines

We have been trying to get pregnant for a few months now. We made the decision in the Spring that we would start trying after our cruise in May. So I had been tracking everything in preparation and when the time came I had completely unrealistic expectations about getting pregnant. My sister-in-law got pregnant the first try so I figured, hey, why not me. Well, needless to say, this did not work for me. So I cried. And cried and cried and cried. Now, to justify this some, please bear in mind that I suffer from depression and I had to go off my anti-depressants so was not completely in my right mind. So then the next month we tried again. And again, nothing. So I cried again. I don’t think I cried as long the second time so that was a step in the right direction. I was learning to cope! Some. I was having a hard time with the anxiety of it all and the waiting. I’m not good with waiting on a good day, much less a day when I’m overly anxious already about something and off my meds. And before anyone decides to be snarky and tell me I had no right to be upset after one month of trying because some people try for years yadda yadda yadda please remember everyone’s situation is different and everyone reacts differently to things. And if you don’t have something nice to say please hit the “home” button on your menu bar and take your negativity elsewhere.

**Sidebar: I’m sure you’re thinking, “Oh my – she’s crazy.” I am… but in a fun “speak in movie lines and laugh til you pee” sort of way. I just struggle with depression and anxiety issues. And I get tired of people self-righteously judging me without remotely knowing what I battle with on a regular basis much less during out of the ordinary situations. So pardon my defensivenes if you mean me no harm.**

Anyway. So the third month comes around and I think, “Haha! I will get an ovulation predictor so I can be positive! This will narrow things down!” This did not work out exactly as I had planned. Meaning, I never got an answer from those stupid things. From all my tracking, I knew that my cycle ran anywhere from 26-32 days. Which makes it hard to know anything; especially for knowing when I’m “late.” So when it didn’t come and didn’t come and still didn’t come, I tried not to get my hopes up but it was really really hard. I ended up breaking down and taking a pregnancy test. It was negative. It was about this time that I started crying. Randomly. A lot. I cried at work. I cried at home. I cried in the middle of a TV show that wasn’t sad or about babies. I took another test. Still negative. More crying. Then I tried to steel myself for the impending doom of finding out for sure I wasn’t pregnant. But nothing happened. Finally, on Monday, the 32nd day, when nothing still happened, I bought another box of tests. I’m surprised I didn’t pee on myself as I was so nervous. I made myself put it down and leave the room for the requisite 3 minutes (with one more thrown in for good measure) instead of staring at it intently. When I picked it up I noticed the line that is always there and a very very very faint second line. Could this be? Are there TWO lines? Two means pregnant. But the second one is so faint. It’s tricking me isn’t it. So what do I do? I do what everyone does! I ask the opinions of people I’ve never met! I get on my trusty app and ask the forum of pregnant and trying to be pregnant ladies what they think of super faint second lines. Very scientific. The consensus was that I was pregnant and should take another test the next day and the lines would be darker. I cried.