Guilt money and the stress juggler

When I was working,there was stress. Worry about how we would find babysitting, stress with working night duty and then staying awake all day to look after the babies, worry about how David could juggle his responsibilities at work and at home but there was no worry about money. Ever. If we wanted something we would get it. If we needed to go food shopping, consider it done.

It was just too much for me though, when everyone was sick all winter. I had a kind of mini mental breakdown, I guess. I just didn’t want to do anything. Except blog. Except to put it out there into a forgiving, guilt free universe.

I wanted William, I wanted what should have been. I wanted a beautiful birth, a live baby. I wanted the nightmares, the insomnia to stop. I wanted normalcy.

Ok, so I also knew that I couldn’t change anything. Nothing is ever going to bring Will back. Nothing. So realistically, I guess I wanted to be able to enjoy my family again. I was scared that I would never feel that warm contentment with my children anymore. Especially with Ivy and Noah.

I would cry alot. Torn between what I wanted, needed almost, to bringing in an income and helping out with money (and in turn, decreasing David’s stress).

David has always been there for me. When my brother died, he was there. He pulled me up out of depression and made sure I went on to become a nurse. When I wanted to do midwifery, he supported me all the way but when it came to money, I always felt that subtle pressure, that expectation. So when he said it was ok for me to stay at home, I felt bad. Guilty bad. It really didn’t matter how he put it, how he felt my staying at home would benefit him, ease the pressure at work, I still felt that I needed to work. Until the first bout of croup gave me little choice but to resign.

So, for the last four months I have been at home. I have been seeing some people and taking some medicine. I have started to feel better, about the role I played in William’s death, about my family and how important they are to me, about my relationship with Ivy and Noah and for a large part, I have let go of the guilt of not working. I see the importance of being at home and I am loving it.

Until today.

This morning was the first time in a long while that I have felt that pressure to go to work, that old guilty bad creeping in.

Ivy and Noah’s birthday is coming and then it’s Christmas.

I love Christmas but I don’t. I love to see the kids’ faces early on Christmas day. I love the joy that they get from the things they really want, being under the tree. I don’t like the cost, the stress of balancing things out so everyone gets the same.

I know the next few weeks will be a juggling act of needs and wants. David knows it too. This morning he is stressed. About money. About juggling in an off pay week. I know that if I were working, there wouldn’t be a week where we would have to stretch the budget to breaking point.

What do I do? Should I go back to work? What would you do?

Would I just be walking straight back into the same old worries and be just as stressed, if not more so?

Am I ready to be the stress juggler again?

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