Lately it's that I've gone back to school, which means I work a lot. I'm gone. I don't get to put my baby down for every nap, he stays with someone else a good chunk of every week day. I don't get to go on Isaiah's field trip or pick him up from school. I hate myself for it. They both freak out every time I leave the house. I'm failing. I'm failing at the one job that matters.
Guilt.
I tell myself to lay off myself. Being a PhD student may be a crap ton of work but it comes with a good amount of flexibility. I do all of my work that doesn't require me to be in a lab or in the field from home. I'm usually physically away less than a standard job would require and I have to work so I should do what I love, right?
Myself doesn't listen. Every second of their lives that I miss feels like a part of me is being ripped away. Always in the back of my mind "this could be the last time." People will say incredibly insensitive things like"Aw, don't do that to yourself." I'm not doing this to myself but thanks for more guilt. I know. I know what it's like to review every moment you missed, every moment you were distracted and want them back more than most people have ever wanted anything, ever.
So, I cry as I drive to school everyday. I cry when my baby readily leaves my arms and snuggles into his babysitter. I cry when my eldest forgets his homework for the bazzillionth time and I wasn't there to help him remember.
My entire being is heavy with the ache of missed moments.
Until next time...
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