By the time I coasted into my third trimester of pregnancy, I had registered for a spot at a home daycare near where we lived. The daycare provider had been working with kids for over 20 years, seemed great, had a clean home, and was super friendly. I even did my due diligence and checked her record with the local licensing agency. Clean as a whistle.
Whenever I felt weepy about the idea of leaving my baby with someone else, I reminded myself that it was probably just pregnancy hormones, that I had gone to a daycare as a child and turned out fine, and that it would all be okay. As I basked in the glow of my first pregnancy, I did not know that God had a whole different plan in mind...
On July 10, 2011 my son Max was born.
My heart skipped a beat.
I fell in love.
I soaked up every minute of my maternity leave, expecting that I would rarely be able to spend so much time in my life just staring at that baby soft skin and those beautiful blue eyes.
During the last weeks before I was scheduled to return to my full time job, I would cry and laugh when Max has his "happy baby time" every morning. We would smile and giggle at each other, but I knew--or thought I knew--that those days were numbered. Soon, I would be spending that time sitting meetings or staring at a computer screen. Someone else would laugh and giggle with him.
Excuse me while I choke up a bit at that memory.
Two days before my maternity leave ended I received a call that would change our lives dramatically.
At 10:37am on a Thursday morning, our daycare lady called to tell me she had had a family emergency. She would not be able to take Max for more than two days a week.
I was going back to work five days a week, starting Monday.
Oh goody.
I had experienced the nightmare of finding good childcare already. I did that before, when I was pregnant, like I was supposed to. I had spent weeks interviewing daycare providers and taking tours of centers. Now, I had a day and a half to figure something out.
While my heart reeled at the "injustice" of it all...I had done everything right, hadn't I? How could this happen to me? It was all planned out...
My heart also ached for whatever family emergency had arisen to warrant such a dramatic decision by the daycare provider.
Instead of spending those last days staring at my baby boy, I frantically called every daycare provider in the area to set up interviews and tours.
For a few weeks, family and friends offered to watch Max while I worked. I was astounded at the outpouring of support we received. It was not an easy time for me, and having people offer to open up their homes and rearrange their schedules to help out was a true blessing. The next several weeks were a blur or scheduling babysitters, calling and visiting potential providers, and adjusting to a full-time work schedule again.
I called and visited countless daycares. If you've never looked for childcare for an infant, let me tell you this: it is hard. Really hard. First, because of limits on the number of kids they can have, it is hard to even find a daycare facility with an infant opening, let alone an opening immediately. Most places book months in advance. If you find somewhere with an opening, it is even harder to determine if it will be a good fit for your baby. I mean, c'mon, a 3-month old can't exactly tell you that Miss Judy Schmoozy spent the entire day watching Days of our Lives while he cried his lungs out in a pack-n-play in the upstairs closet. There are things to look for, but a lot of it is trusting your gut. And listening to people. When I called the county licensing agency about one provider, she asked me if I had visited the lady's home yet. When I told her I hadn't, she told me--in as nice and professional a way as possible--that the home was not particularly tidy. In fact, I'm pretty sure she used the term "garbage house" to describe it. Wonderful. Cross that one off the list.
Finally, after a few weeks, everything seemed to converge. We interviewed a phenomenal daycare provider, who both my husband and I fell in love with. After meeting with her, we couldn't imagine sending our little guy anywhere else. There was a catch, though. Her rates were non-negotiable and twice as much as most other providers. Awesome.
Meanwhile, the outpouring of support we'd received at the beginning of this ordeal had dwindled a bit, which is understandable. It had been 3 weeks of pinch-hitting babysitters, and everyone was ready to be back in a normal routine.
While all of this was happening, my husband and I were racking our brains trying to solve this problem. If we couldn't find a good daycare to fit our schedule, then maybe our schedule needed to change. Since it was financially wise that we both work, we explored the possibility of me finding a different job and working nights and weekends. We also explored the idea of me working from home.
With little hope of that working out, I pitched the idea to my employer. I started out by asking to work from home three or more days per week. I also asked if working part-time would be an option. I was met with blank stares in astonishment. And a solid assurance that part-time was not an option. They had just laid off every part-time employee and had no intention of opening that door to anyone else.
But I had prepared for this. I did some research and put together a proposal of my request along with statistics and anecdotes about how "telecommuting" had benefited other companies. In all of it, I took the angle of benefitting the company, not me personally.
They didn't say no.
But they didn't say yes.
As with most corporate jobs, my supervisor had to talk with his supervisor who had to email so-and-so who had to consult with HR, blah blah blah. Well, this process didn't work very well for me and my increasingly urgent need for a permanent solution. By this point, I was leaving my son with acquaintences that seemed friendly and trustworthy but whom I barely new. Things were getting desperate.
Well, you know what they say about desperate times...
After four weeks of not getting a solid answer about my proposal, I took a huge risk. I wrote a letter of resignation, effective in nine days. Not only was I going to give my supervisor an ultimatum, but I was giving less than two weeks' notice AND I would have to email it to him while he was at a conference at our company's headquarters in another country. Yes, I was that desperate.
Quite certain that I was committing career-suicide, I prepared to pack up my desk and head to the local Aldi, where I would buy some generic pasta, ketchup, and peanut butter to eat for the foreseeable future.
But God works in amazing ways.
They approved my request to work at home.
Sort of.
They would allow me to work from home for 6 weeks.
I said, How about 8 months?
They offered 1 day per week.
I said, How about 2 days one week and 3 days the next? (splitting my time 50/50 at home and in the office.)
They said, Okay.
When does this start? I asked.
Immediately, they said.
I almost fell off my chair.
And that is how it all began...
Want to know more? Read My Story: Part 2.
