Back to Work...

So, the past couple of days have been a shock. Ever since those lines appeared on the stick in my bathroom on Thursday night, nothing has felt the same. Thankfully, I have an INCREDIBLY flexible work schedule and AMAZING bosses. Thus, I did not go in on Monday, worked a marginal amount yesterday, missed a staff meeting, and messed up a BUNCH of treatment requests with minimal consequence. My direct supervisor, the clinical director and the main psychiatrist/owner of the company welcomed me with open arms, reassurance, and love today. I told my direct supervisor about my "condition" Monday while I was in the office. She let the others in management know, mostly in an effort to advocate for me regarding my failed treatment requests.

Many of you know I recently had to take an 8% cut in pay in order to make up for some creative manipulations at the hands of the North Carolina Department of Mental Health. I am so thankful to be in an agency where I am protected from the bulk of that trouble, though. We are receiving applications from other people who do/did what I do. They did not fare as well in other area agencies. Every time I worry about that 8% reduction or the stresses I have to face with the timing of the pregnancy, I am amazed by the overwhelming support and love I feel at my office. While other women fear being let go or are otherwise compromised during their pregnancy and consequent maternity leave, I am getting nothing but oaths of support, love, and encouragement. Again, I feel silly for the worry that keeps nagging at the back of my mind and in the recesses of my heart. I am resourceful and placed in a network of support. It's not like I'm giving birth on the Oregon Trail like the women in the PBS documentary we watched last night!

I am working to make my home as relaxing and supportive as my office is. I feel like coming to work today, even facing all the silly mistakes I've made in my distraction, has been therapeutic (appropriate, since I work in a therapeutic office!). I want my home to have the same "vibe." One that says "the timing may not be what you expected, but there is always another coping skill to learn and you can become better in preparation for what lies ahead." It's harder when you don't have a team cheering you on toward the victory, and instead have the quiet of a living room that needs to be rearranged to fit the guest room furniture in order to make way for the crib. My fear and concern loom large in that space.

A lady in my office who is a seamstress has already shown me the bags she makes. I am not to get a diaper bag from anyone but her... she'll custom make it, she said. A friend already talked about getting together another "diaper dinner" where we go out as coworkers, enjoy a meal, and everyone brings a diaper or diaper product for the expectant mother. I have offers of babysitting, a coworker who is giving me her copy of "What to expect when you're expecting" and other generous expressions of love and support. It's an embarrassment of riches, really. I know women who can't get pregnant no matter how hard they try. My clients rarely have a home to take their children to, let alone a safe one decorated in family heirlooms and earth tones. I am wealthy beyond description, really. And, I am happy that they are the reality of the world into which I will birth this baby.