Ezra won’t take a bottle. Or a bink. He doesn’t like it when I am gone- even for a short time. It’s like he knows. He is even sleeping on me as a type this because the moment  that I put him down he wakes up. I have never left him for more than two hours. But in a few weeks looms a very big date. The return to work date. The leave my baby for 14 hours a day twice a week date. I look at him and want to cry my eyes out at the thought. Then I think about leaving my job- and, well, that makes me want to cry my eyes out, too.

     I love my son. I love my family. Work- with the required weekends and holidays and long shifts would be very difficult for them. Who would watch Ezra?

     I love my job. It’s my dream job. Intensive care at a big regional hospital. Exactly what I strived for during the last many years. I can’t leave. Leaving would be crazy. I work DAY shift. Days! In an ICU. And I am only 26 years old. Unheard of. Leaving would mean never coming back. Leaving would mean letting my skills fade. Leaving would mean losing all those relationships. But staying would be leaving my son. Staying would be logistically very difficult. Staying would allow someone else to care for Ezra while I am gone- who would love Ezra like I do? Who? No one, of course. I am his mother. Everyone knows that no one loves you like your mom loves you. Staying would mean going back under the iron rod of the scheduling gods. You want that day off-too bad! You have to work. I am sorry, I know it’s Saturday, Sunday, Christmas, whatever. But the hospital must be staffed. Staying would add more stress and strain to our lives. But leaving feels foolish too.

Can I have both?