I started writing a post for today about what I’m making Mac for his first birthday. Instead, I’m just going to unload a bunch of guilt.
I never really cared whether I had kids.
I suppose in some imaginary “perfect world/life” there were cute little Baby Gap sporting children who slept in nurseries outfitted by Serena & Lily and Johathan Adler. . .oh yeah, I also had a conservatory and a baby grand Baldwin piano. . .
I still went to a job I adored.
We had “help” – nannies, housekeepers, drycleaners, dog walkers, personal shoppers, grocery delivery, tailors, window washers, landscapers.
Turns out, that theory was flawed.
I woke up on the morning of my 30th birthday – a Saturday – and had a wretched panic attack in the middle of the afternoon while I was vacuuming the house so my Mother in Law could come visit with a cake. (Yes, I was vacuuming my own home on my birthday but there’s a more important point here. . .)
I came to very slowly realize over the course of the next 4 years, I positively hated the job I worked so diligently to earn. I saw no opportunity for advancement. I saw my future as a big black hole riddled with heart disease, heartburn, and disappointment.
My Mom Battled Cancer. My Dad died.
And I knew. I knew.
The clock of life is wound but once. . .and no man has the power. . .to know just when the hands will stop at late or early hour.
After having Mac, I knew I couldn’t return to that sort of a professional environment.
Career driven Deni was lost before. And is currently out to lunch.
I never wanted “this.” This crazy weird world where I play pretend games half the day with my kid. Where I narrate everything I’m doing. Where I say “cracker” 25 times just so I can hear him try to repeat it.
I never dreamed “this” would work for me.
And tonight while my Husband was packing for a business trip and could hear me and Mac playing downstairs, nearly shrieking with laughter, I felt like such an asshole.
He wanted children. Not me. I wanted a career. Not him.
But somehow things got flipped around and I unintentionally (ultimately selfishly) birthed my way out of a horrible career path. . .And stuck him with a tremendous burden.
“It was so nice to hear you and Mac playing down here,” he said later. “You have a lot of fun all day long don’t you?”
My stomach turned.
It should be you.
I’m sorry. A million times over I’m sorry.
It should be you.