The family unit has survived my (gasp) return to work, despite my insane fears of hardship and anxiety last week. Meg has been home with the wee one, who has slept for most of the days, except for when he’s hungry or dirty, of course.

I can’t wait for the times ahead when he’s awake and taking in the world around him, including his mom and dad. Seeing his eyes open are an enlightening experience each day, even if they are brief, before the wails bellow from his lungs asking to be fed or changed.

While we have adjusted to our new routine, and I look forward to seeing his face and Meg’s when I walk through the door each day, there is another cloud of anxiety that has slowly crept in and hangs above us like a dooming gray forecast in the sky.

Before we know it, Meg will have to return to work as well – something neither one of us are looking forward to. Here, we have just created a miracle – a living, breathing, human being, instilled with parts of each of us. Even as I write it, I am astounded at how amazing the concept truly is.

However, the thought at this time of handing this little person, so helpless, so reliant, who knows only his mom, his dad and his kitties, over to people to watch him for the bulk of his day, only to return to us for a few hours before the end of the day and a long night’s sleep, quite frankly, scares me.

I’m not just talking about the frightening costs of childcare, which, even at the decent prices we’re getting compared to others I’ve spoken to. Sure, those costs could equal out another mortgage and a half, making me realize that our dreams of a slightly larger home may be put on hold for quite a while.

It’s the thought of handing over our little boy to strangers, whom he will spend the bulk of his time with at such a tender age, that rocks me to the core.

Not that they are bad people, but that as he starts to awaken to the world around him, he’s going to be awakening to it where he spends more time with other people than he does his family. At his tender, newborn age, I just can’t bring myself to feel right about it, no matter how common it may be.

I would love to prevent it, to have him spend his time going from newborn to toddler, spending the bulk of his days in the presence of his parents, but right now it is depressingly not appearing to be in the cards. Some have suggested that I look into a part time job to supplement income so Meg has the ability to stay at home (if she wanted to, of course. I feel that I have inadvertently put undue pressure on her to take extra time off to be with the baby) with him without worry about money. Others have suggested having a relative watch him, which just doesn’t work geographically for us.

It’s a conundrum, and one that is creeping upon us as the summer ticks away. I wish I knew what the best solution was. I wish I knew automatically what way to make it all work for him, for her, and the family as a whole.

I don’t, though. When I think about that, I feel as helpless as the little boy whose crying for me to change his diapers.

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