Eleven

On Monday, baby Iyyar will be eleven weeks old. He's sleeping more and crying less (really, Deb, he is); he's just started smiling in response to a smile, though only when he's in the mood. He's outgrown all of his newborn stretchies. He falls asleep nursing and stays asleep, some of the time; put him in the bouncy seat in front of a running dishwasher and that's usually good for a whole 5-lb bag of flour's worth of challah. Put him in the Snugli and he'll sleep for a while, but only until he wakes up and realizes that his nose is between the places his mouth should be. He's warm and cuddly. He smells good. I love him an awful lot.

Eleven weeks is the point where you usually stop counting in weeks and start counting months. But I'm acutely aware of the number of weeks, because my FMLA maternity leave is 12 weeks long. I've got one week left. And the request that my boss put in for me back in December, to become a permanent telecommuter, has, it appears, just been denied. Meaning that I'm expected back to work, a week from Monday, for 22.5 hours a week--which, with commute, makes 30 hours a week away from Barak and Iyyar. And there is no question in my mind that 30 hours a week is just. Too. Much. Not to mention the fact that my babysitter, who admittedly rocks, can only do 20 hours a week. My boss is able to give me a few weeks' grace to get that sorted out, but that's not going to be good enough. I'm still going to have to leave a tiny baby, every day, for far too long.

So, now what? Could I quit? Well, I could, but that would leave us without health insurance. (The money I take home, after I pay for childcare, is helpful, but not enough to be a major consideration. Basically, I work for insurance and the retirement benefits.) And as MHH pointed out when I went tearily off to work in the first place, when Barak was 7 months old and in a really good daycare two blocks from work, making sure that your kids have health insurance is also part of being a good mother. I could stand it then, because he was so close that the hours of being apart were really only the 4.5 hours I worked; and because he was a bit older, and already so independent. But I can't afford to have both of them in that daycare--it would cost far more than I earn. I'd have to leave them both with a sitter, here. It would mean pumping two bottles a day, and between keeping everyone clothed and fed, and working, and pumping, and maybe sleeping--what would happen to my mothering?

If we paid Cobra, and lived off MHH's salary alone, we could pay our mortgage and eat, and probably still buy the kids shoes. But that would be it. There would be nothing for any unexpected expenses, we would not be saving for retirement, and the ever-looming yeshiva tuition bills would not go away (although I have to assume we'd be eligible for more in scholarships.) We could manage for a while, but not forever; I am not willing to be that poor at this stage of our lives, not with no safety net of savings or family help. I'd have to go back to work eventually, and I'd have lost what is almost undoubtedly the best part-time job on public transport anywhere in the area. I mean, how many people hire part-time speechwriters and give them full benefits and a totally flexible schedule? And supply them helpfully with very intelligent and understanding bosses with senses of humor? Not many. I'm very, very fortunate to have the job I have, and I know it.

But I also know I can't handle it right now. And I told my boss this. "I could tell you I could do it, and I could show up on Monday and try to do it, but I can't. I'd be hiding out in the lactation room weeping into my Medela. I'd be useless." "You'd probably also get pretty tiresome to the other lactating mothers," she agreed. So, we hatched a Plan B, which is that I quit, she hires me back as a freelancer (during which time I agree to behave as though I were still on staff so far as my availability) and agrees to hire me back to staff in three months (at which time I will try to get approved to at least work a third of my hours from home).

She's going to go to her boss with this and call me back next week. There are a lot of questions, like, will I get hired back at the same salary? Will she write me a job offer before I leave, so I can have it on paper? How is all of this going to work with my longevity and the rest of it?

And most important, will he say yes?