Day Care

Those are suddenly the two ugliest words in the human language. Day care. In one week from tomorrow I will officially be a working mother. It's not a new job or anything I just have to go back from maternity leave. I never thought I'd feel this way. Before I ever even thought of having children I knew I didn't want to be one of those women that gives up their career for their children. Staying home was something that women from my mother's generation did. I have never in my life been more jealous of that generation. For all of my "women forward" thinking I can't get over the fact that I am taking the most precious thing in my life and handing her over to complete strangers to take care of 8 hours a day. That means that those people will spend more time with her over the next few years than I will. That thought makes me sick to my stomach. What if she utters her first words at day care? What if her first steps happen there? What if she doesn't understand where her mommy, who has been spending every moment for twelve weeks with her, went? How am I supposed to get anything accomplished at work while worrying about how she is doing?
People tell you things like "she'll be exposed to more learning opportunities there than she would at home with you" or "it'll be good for her to have other children to interact with" to try to make me feel okay about the situation. The funny thing is I have said those same things to other people to try to make them feel better and I really believed those very things to be true. The real truth is, no matter what my feelings are, I have to work. That is it plain and simple. I have to work. The question then becomes how do I come to terms with my situation and make the best of the time I have with her? Is quality really more important than quantity? I guess I'm on my way to finding that out like it or not.