|Image credits; My brown baby.|
When I was a little kid growing up in the North, my mom didn’t work outside of the home. Instead, she stayed home with me and my sisters, playing with us and cooking every meal we ever wanted to eat, teaching us things, reading the yellow hard cover "my book of bible stories' with us and prying along, caring for us, and when we got older she dusted her certificate and went back to work as a staff nurse at a hospital. She would “go back to work” eventually, but while we were small, she was a full-time parent. When I was preparing to have my own child, I wasn’t sure if that was something that I wanted or not. Ultimately, the financial realities of my working class family meant that it wasn’t really a decision I had to make, because my family needed me to be working to sustain us in this economy. And to be honest, being with my son 24/7 and having nothing else that I had to do during the lengthy postpartum period made me feel antsy and weird. When I started working, and especially when I started working on a schedule, it
felt good to contribute to my family financially and have something else to think about. But as time wears on and as the baby grows and his needs change, I long for the simplicity of, “just being a mom.” Honestly, I wish that I wasn’t a working mom at all.