I go back to work this coming Friday. I am grappling with some mixed emotions here. Before I became pregnant, and even after, in the first trimester, I did too much by most everyone's standards. Before the pregnancy,I worked all of the time. Most people complain about 3 or 4 twelve-hour shifts in a row. One usually requires a rest period in there somewhere. We run our asses off, on our feet, for those 12. It can be brutal. But me? Well I used to work as many as 8 or 9 in a row. Plus I was in school. I would leave work at 7:30 in the morning after working all night, and go straight to an organic chem lab or a genetics lecture. Of course I would look like a crazy person on the campus of the University of Cincinnati, wandering around in scrubs, looking like death warmed over. But I did it. There was one day in particular, when I was sitting in a Women's History lecture, that I noticed everyone sort of staring at me. I couldn't figure out why. Until I looked down and realized I still had my stethoscope around my neck, my badge on, and a hemostat with rolls of medical tape clamped to the waist of my scrub bottoms. Like I was going to save a life right then and there.
Well, when I became pregnant, the crazy amounts of overtime went out the window, but school could not,at first. When I started to have complications, work and school were over for me, save for 2 classes completed online.
So how does one go from doing everything to being completely grounded, just like that. The couple of weeks were nice--I got to rest, spend more time with Evan and John. But then I realized that it was not a vacation. And I started to desperately miss my life. I continued to do so for over 15 weeks.
So now I am almost 5 weeks postpartum. I have been off of work for 20 weeks. I am ready to go back! Am I EVER! But I am going to have to learn, all over again, how to be away. And I am going to miss my boys, all 3. I have been with them for every wakingmoment for the past 5 months!
As far as work goes, I am on the schedule for my first 12 on a Friday night. That takes care of that work week. But then the next? 48 hours. And the 2nd week? 56 hours. So much for building myself up. I am already signed up for overtime. And it is my fault. I'm a glutton for punishment. But when you can earn up to $900 just by working one 12-hour day, it is really hard to turn down the opportunity. Especially when you have been off this long and living on meager disability insurance benefits. Plus, I am a team player. I know what it is like to work those shifts that are so short. I know how much easier it is to have another therapist working. And so I sign up.
So anyhow, back I go. Old habits die hard.