This year, though the best of my life, has been really f*cking hard. Being torn away from my son to go to work nearly cost me a nervous break down. And here I am, six months later, and I'm feeling no better. I've bottled up this resentment and anger towards the husband I once loved and appreciated. And now all I could think about it is how angry I am with him about not providing me with something I so desperately need. We talk in circles about this subject and it always goes nowhere. My feeling is that he should step up and provide for his family. He feels it should be 50/50 because that's how we went into it...
But we didn't carry this child in our wombs for nine months. We didn't spend over 30 hours in labor birthing this child. We did not nurse this child. I did all of those things. I created this special bond and I need to be there to nurture it until he's ready stand on his own two feet.
And so I spit on this idea of the independent working mom idea. It's silly and superficial and counterintuitive. It just makes life harder for those of that want to be home with our children.
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