Returning to work – the final stage of acceptance and putting together the last piece of what resembles your normal life before your world broke in half. My daughter passed away when she was 3 months old, half way through my 6-month maternity leave agreement. This was in some sense – to use the most horrific word possible – convenient. I didn’t have to tell anyone what I was going through. I didn’t have to ask for time away from work, nor commit to a return date. I didn’t need to check in with the boss or receive their condolences, at least not until I was ready. But now it has been 3 months since she passed, and time for me to make the decision, do I return to work, at all? I had options to extend my leave, but for my husband and I the mortgage repayments were already starting to weigh in on our overburdened minds and our broken hearts. We couldn’t afford another stressor – not to our mental health, not to our relationship. So the decision was made to go back, as planned, on my original date I set back in December, when I walked out with a belly full of baby and a belief that the world was a beautiful place.
I knew Day One would be a horrible day. Facing those who I see more than my closest friends, yet who know so little about me in comparison. While some had appeared at my daughter’s funeral, I didn’t know how fast the word had spread around the office. Was I to be met with “Welcome back, how is your baby?” or “Welcome back, I’m so sorry for your loss”? Both simply sucked. Would I tell people? Could I tell people without crying? Did I want to cry? I had no idea of what I was really feeling or what was adrenaline prescribing me to wear a brave face. So as it was going to be such a tough day, I decided to take it one step at a time. I knew I had my boss’s approval to jump ship and head home whenever I wanted, so I set myself the somewhat simple goal: Make it to the office, stay for 8 hours, make it home. I had one job, and it was to be there. That’s it.
I was kind to myself that day. When I would normally take the bus into the city, I opted instead for the ferry ride. I calmed myself using the water crashing as my own personal metaphor, but I always noted how even after the water crashed it was welcomed back to the sea so gently and morphed into something new. I was morphing too. And so I arrived at work, met with mostly hugs, some tears from others, and one or two “congratulations” (which I must say I love a whole lot more – I did give birth after all and I deserve the congratulations!). However the loudest thing to me was their silence. People asked about my trip to Hawaii (we had a grief holiday), and they asked how I was enjoying my new neighborhood post-move. Nobody, not one, said Zoey. Their silence on the topic was deafening and cracked my shattered heart. I realized very soon that I had to lead that conversation and let them know that I LOVE to talk about Zoey. I will tell you the color of her eyes and her favorite toy, and even brag about a wonderful mummy-nurse I am. I’ll explain how I came to terms with having a child with severe disabilities and in accepting that, I became excited for her. I could talk about how I felt full joy and the deepest love I had ever felt. Nothing made me scared except the concept of losing her. And how when I did, I fell apart… Ok, maybe I don’t want to talk about that last bit.
Three weeks back at work and I am still discovering my boundaries. I have had one breakdown due to her anniversary, and have cried in every 1-on-1 meeting I’ve had. Apart from that I think I am going ok. The biggest reality smack though is knowing that I don’t care about my work anymore. Whether the budget is balanced, or whether a client is unhappy. I just don’t care and I’m not sorry about that. So I find myself asking again, should I have returned to work after all? Should I leave? Should I stay? I’m even contemplating a career move. When I look back at my life in a year’s time, will I be satisfied with going back to my mediocre job. Did I want Zoey’s life to have impacted me professionally, or do I just want to ignore the voice inside telling me to move on? I question myself constantly. I try to be kind to myself and give myself the time I need to make these decisions If there is one thing I don’t need now it’s pressure from myself or my job. So please, be kind to yourselves too and remove that pressure you are placing on yourselves. We are burdened enough. Your choices today don’t need to be your choices tomorrow. Take your time returning to work. Set your own boundaries and know that whatever you do or feel, that’s ok. If we can deal with loosing our children, then our colleagues can deal with us.
- What About Him? - December 18, 2017
- Beating Breakdowns - December 4, 2017
- Thankful - November 20, 2017