In my line of work, childcare is not just essential, it’s the oxygen that keeps my day going
When the babysitter’s name flashes on the screen of my phone, my heart sinks.
“Hello?”
“Sorry, Ayala, one of my kids had fever last night. I’m not going to be able to babysit today,” she says apologetically.
“Thanks for letting me know. Refuah sheleimah,” I say fervently. That child needs to get better, and I need a babysitter. In my line of work, childcare is not just essential, it’s the oxygen that keeps my day going. I have a babysitter, a backup babysitter, a backup-backup babysitter… and so on. Unfortunately, backup babysitter is not available, but backup-backup babysitter is. I have a ten-hour shift, and I need to be there by 6 a.m. It’s not an easy time, and I pay the price.
Yitzy gazes at me, all big blue eyes and delicious dimples, and for one moment I wish I could stay home, breathing in that sweet baby smell, snuggling that little body…. But I have to work. His babysitters are wonderful, caring women, but the guilt is ever-present. When he cries at night, is it only because he’s hungry, or because he feels abandoned? When I’m home, Yitzy is my complete focus, and I shower him with Mommy time, but sometimes I wonder. I know that life will be easier after my residency, that I’ll have normal hours and be able to be a normal mother, but looking at my child, I experience doubt.
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
