By Astacia Carter
Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life.
~Sophocles
Tuesday, June 17th, 2008, marked the beginning of my first summer as a stay-at-home mom. It is a strange feeling not working. I enjoy it, but I also feel a little guilty. I know I am still working but having "home" as my only responsibility is foreign to me. My days are now filled with dishwashers, laundry and bike rides. It's almost like I'm cheating the system. Until I remember what put me in this position.
Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life.
~Sophocles
Tuesday, June 17th, 2008, marked the beginning of my first summer as a stay-at-home mom. It is a strange feeling not working. I enjoy it, but I also feel a little guilty. I know I am still working but having "home" as my only responsibility is foreign to me. My days are now filled with dishwashers, laundry and bike rides. It's almost like I'm cheating the system. Until I remember what put me in this position.
When my younger daughter, Alexa, was six months old, I returned to work full-time. I took a position that was thirty-two hours per week, teaching morning and afternoon preschool classes. I did my job poorly and I was deeply depressed. It wore me out.
There were two key reasons for my depression: Alexa had recently been diagnosed with encephalopathy (a disease similar to Cerebral Palsy), plus I had the sickening cost of day care to deal with. I barely made ten dollars an hour and I was paying almost three hundred dollars per week for childcare. Most months I brought home about two hundred bucks after childcare and taxes. There were a couple of months when I was in the red on payday. Suffice it to say, I was a mess.
Then came Alexa's sixteen-month check-up at the end of February. I told our pediatrician that her left eye was floating. On closer examination, he agreed, wrote down the description in medical terminology and told me to mention it when we saw the neurologist the next week.
Neurologist check-ups always began with a chart review. He noticed she had undergone an MRI the previous July and that he had never seen the report. This was likely caused by a glitch in the radiology system. For some reason the films he ordered had been sent to Alexa's plastic surgeon. I could tell from the look on his face that the report was bad. I began to panic when he said, "I can't believe I haven't seen this until now."
If I was struggling before, I was drowning now. Did I mention my husband was working two states away? And I was in the middle of parent-teacher conferences at work. My mom stepped in and got Alexa to her MRI that week. I took calls from the neurosurgeon between Kindergarten Readiness meetings.
Alexa has an arachnoid cyst in her brain. Arachnoid cysts are pockets of fluid that form in the lining of the brain. Hundreds of babies are born every year with them and many never know about them their entire lives. Alexa was not so lucky. It is the educated guess of medical professionals that her disabilities are directly and indirectly related to this cyst. The cyst was originally found at eight weeks of age on an MRI. Her neurologist at the time sent us directly to a pediatric neurosurgeon for a more detailed evaluation. At that time, the cyst was small but precariously positioned. He felt that the risk of surgery far outweighed the current minimal dangers.
Now all of the risks were real. The cyst was pressing on her optic nerve. It was located in the operation center of the brain. Apparently, when she had a growth spurt, her cyst did as well. We were now dealing with a huge potential for debilitating sensory and motor function loss. The cyst was on the right side, thus explaining the left eye issue. To make matters worse, she had increased hydrocephalus (abnormal accumulation of fluid in the brain).
It was on a Friday afternoon as I was finishing up the conferences when I received the call I had been dreading. Our neurosurgeon told me quite plainly that the danger was high and that he had scheduled her for surgery the following Monday. "Wait!" I shouted, "Her dad is not here." After a few moments he said that as long she was not showing any signs of distress we could postpone it until Dad came home, but not a moment later.
Those three weeks between that call and her surgery were pivotal. It was at that time every year that I received my intent form for the next year of work. My poor performance as a teacher was noted and it was made clear to me that I was welcome to continue my morning class or take an opening in day care. Under no circumstances would I be hired to teach two classes.
This hurt my feelings, because in the past I had based my self-worth on my job. When I did well at work I felt good about myself as a person. I knew I was a productive member of society. Now all bets were off. My value was tied as much to my kids as it was to my job. I knew being a wiped out zombie every day after work was not quality mothering. I engaged in heavy-duty soul searching. Then came marathon late night phone calls to my husband about our budget. It took us seven days to make a decision.
I checked "I do not plan to return to my position at this school for the 2006-2007 school year" on my intent form, and signed on the dotted line. I was both relieved and frightened. I knew that I was not surviving the limbo. I knew it was best for my girls for me to not be perpetually stressed. I knew Alexa needed to be in a more loving environment during the day.
Her surgery came and went. Alexa is a tough kid and she improved overnight. Her therapists noticed better coordination and her unexplained fussing ceased. She could sit up longer. Her left eye settled down. She was happier and so was I. I stayed at the school through the summer. I worked a tiny part-time job the following year so Makayla could take swimming and gymnastics lessons at a reduced rate. I left in August of last year.
I became a full-time stay-at-home mom shortly before Labor Day, 2007. It hasn't been easy but it has been worth it. My girls know where I am most hours of the day. We can splash in the pool, we can bake, and we can cuddle whenever we want. After all that we have been through, I think I will easily get used to seeing the rewards of my work on the faces of my children.
There were two key reasons for my depression: Alexa had recently been diagnosed with encephalopathy (a disease similar to Cerebral Palsy), plus I had the sickening cost of day care to deal with. I barely made ten dollars an hour and I was paying almost three hundred dollars per week for childcare. Most months I brought home about two hundred bucks after childcare and taxes. There were a couple of months when I was in the red on payday. Suffice it to say, I was a mess.
Then came Alexa's sixteen-month check-up at the end of February. I told our pediatrician that her left eye was floating. On closer examination, he agreed, wrote down the description in medical terminology and told me to mention it when we saw the neurologist the next week.
Neurologist check-ups always began with a chart review. He noticed she had undergone an MRI the previous July and that he had never seen the report. This was likely caused by a glitch in the radiology system. For some reason the films he ordered had been sent to Alexa's plastic surgeon. I could tell from the look on his face that the report was bad. I began to panic when he said, "I can't believe I haven't seen this until now."
If I was struggling before, I was drowning now. Did I mention my husband was working two states away? And I was in the middle of parent-teacher conferences at work. My mom stepped in and got Alexa to her MRI that week. I took calls from the neurosurgeon between Kindergarten Readiness meetings.
Alexa has an arachnoid cyst in her brain. Arachnoid cysts are pockets of fluid that form in the lining of the brain. Hundreds of babies are born every year with them and many never know about them their entire lives. Alexa was not so lucky. It is the educated guess of medical professionals that her disabilities are directly and indirectly related to this cyst. The cyst was originally found at eight weeks of age on an MRI. Her neurologist at the time sent us directly to a pediatric neurosurgeon for a more detailed evaluation. At that time, the cyst was small but precariously positioned. He felt that the risk of surgery far outweighed the current minimal dangers.
Now all of the risks were real. The cyst was pressing on her optic nerve. It was located in the operation center of the brain. Apparently, when she had a growth spurt, her cyst did as well. We were now dealing with a huge potential for debilitating sensory and motor function loss. The cyst was on the right side, thus explaining the left eye issue. To make matters worse, she had increased hydrocephalus (abnormal accumulation of fluid in the brain).
It was on a Friday afternoon as I was finishing up the conferences when I received the call I had been dreading. Our neurosurgeon told me quite plainly that the danger was high and that he had scheduled her for surgery the following Monday. "Wait!" I shouted, "Her dad is not here." After a few moments he said that as long she was not showing any signs of distress we could postpone it until Dad came home, but not a moment later.
Those three weeks between that call and her surgery were pivotal. It was at that time every year that I received my intent form for the next year of work. My poor performance as a teacher was noted and it was made clear to me that I was welcome to continue my morning class or take an opening in day care. Under no circumstances would I be hired to teach two classes.
This hurt my feelings, because in the past I had based my self-worth on my job. When I did well at work I felt good about myself as a person. I knew I was a productive member of society. Now all bets were off. My value was tied as much to my kids as it was to my job. I knew being a wiped out zombie every day after work was not quality mothering. I engaged in heavy-duty soul searching. Then came marathon late night phone calls to my husband about our budget. It took us seven days to make a decision.
I checked "I do not plan to return to my position at this school for the 2006-2007 school year" on my intent form, and signed on the dotted line. I was both relieved and frightened. I knew that I was not surviving the limbo. I knew it was best for my girls for me to not be perpetually stressed. I knew Alexa needed to be in a more loving environment during the day.
Her surgery came and went. Alexa is a tough kid and she improved overnight. Her therapists noticed better coordination and her unexplained fussing ceased. She could sit up longer. Her left eye settled down. She was happier and so was I. I stayed at the school through the summer. I worked a tiny part-time job the following year so Makayla could take swimming and gymnastics lessons at a reduced rate. I left in August of last year.
I became a full-time stay-at-home mom shortly before Labor Day, 2007. It hasn't been easy but it has been worth it. My girls know where I am most hours of the day. We can splash in the pool, we can bake, and we can cuddle whenever we want. After all that we have been through, I think I will easily get used to seeing the rewards of my work on the faces of my children.
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