Parental Duty

I always knew I wanted children. I always knew I wanted a career, as well. What I never knew was just how much internal conflict would exist between these two roles. Before Dahlia was born, I thought that perhaps many women used their children as excuses to sit on their asses all day. Having been a stay at home mom for the first 18 months of my child's life, I now know that I did everything except sit on my ass. In fact, I do a lot more sitting on my ass now, as an Engineer, than I ever did as a Homemaker. And while I still think that some moms use their children as excuses not to jump into the workforce, I am willing to bet that their fears are of anything BUT hard work.

Many of the fears I experienced before starting my career were around the welfare of my child in the care of someone else. In fact, Dahlia was over a year old before I let anyone other than her Grandmother watch her. I would describe my apprehension about leaving my child in the care of someone else as a paranoid panic. In my mind, anyone could be a pedophile or a sadist. How could I leave her alone with anyone, if I would never really know what happened while I was gone? I still recognize that anyone can be a sicko. To deny that would be to deny the reality of the news we hear everyday. But now, I drop my precious offspring off with people I barely know everyday -at a place called daycare.

I did a lot of research before choosing a daycare. I called local police departments to make sure that no incidents had been filed around a particular facility and I spoke to each and every person that worked there and found out what their plans for the future were (which, to me, translates to how much they have to loose). I made sure they were all CPR certified and on and on until I am sure they all wanted to strangle me but their reactions didn't matter to me. I did all my questioning in the most polite and non-intrusive way possible. Besides, it is my parental duty to ensure my child's safety within the confines of what my family can afford.

Still, 5 months of daycare later (late last week to be exact), I notice a large but hard-to-see bump on Dahlia's head, near the hairline. Having had no incident report from the daycare, I worried. I worried because I am almost certain that it didn't happen at home and the daycare workers claim to have no idea how she got it. So one of two things are probable: 1. It happened and no one noticed or 2. They noticed and didn't report it. I really don't know what is worse but both would be equally as infuriating, albeit not as sinister. Then comes that familiar guilt. "Because I choose to work and make money, I expose my baby to neglect" and "I will never know how that bump got there." and " What if someone hit her?" and "What if next time it is worse?", etc.. So, yesterday, Dahlia and I are headed to the potty (a new endeavor worthy of its own post) and she refuses to sit on it and starts yelling "No! No potty! Dahlia fall down!" That's odd, I thought at the time. She has never fallen off of the toilet at home. Then I remembered the mysterious bump and arrived at my current conclusion (which I accept is based on several assumptions): my child, at some point, fell off of the potty at daycare and it went unnoticed or was not reported.

Now, I consider two choices: pull her out of this daycare based on a whole lot of assumptions and force her to leave her little friends and teachers and an environment that she has grown to love and crave. Or, swallow my suspicions and assume that there was no ill intent and that it was either just a momentary (and isolated) lapse in supervision or, less likely, that it did happen at home and that she simply did not cry.

No matter what, I am left with that sinking feeling of guilt. Am I not fulfilling my duty as a parent by failing to protect her from injury, from seemingly constant illness associated with the petri dish that is daycare? The fact is that no one would care for Dahlia like my husband and I do. It would be delusional to claim that she wouldn't be better taken care of at home. However, at the same time, she would not be as socialized (if at all) and would not learn as much in the process of becoming socialized. Our family would not be as financially stable and my child's future nowhere near as bright. Would I not be failing at my parental duties then?

All in all, nothing can change that I MISS being with her. I think about it everyday. "What is she doing right now?", "What will she eat today?", "Is she happy?". I have chosen to deprive myself of that knowledge in the short-term but, hopefully, she will be all the better for it in the long run.