Two years ago, my husband and I made the decision that I would quit my job to care for Danny full time.

It was a painfully difficult decision for me.

I had always planned on being a working mom. 

Quitting a job that I loved was yet another reminder of how far our lives had veered from "the plan."

However, our lives had become unsustainable. 

Danny had appointments four to five times per week, numerous hospital stays, and a feeding tube surgery. 

We were drained, physically and emotionally, and there was never a reprieve from the cycle of work and care for Danny.

Danny had a very difficult infancy, and while we have photographic evidence of him smiling, I honestly mostly just remember the crying.

The soothing. 

The bouncing. 

My wonderful father and niece came to care for Danny for a week that we did not have day care, and my niece, quite literally, bounced Danny on an exercise ball for eight hours a day while I was at work.

Going to work was a respite from the nearly constant worry I had for my son.

While I was at work, I could push my anxieties away and focus on something that still felt normal. 

It was mine. 

It was the plan. 

However, I raced out the door of work more often than not because in my absence, my son would not eat, sleep, or drink.

And he would cry.

I remember one particularly tiring week, looking up at my husband, and finally saying, “We cannot live this way. I think I have to quit my job.” 

He said quietly "I am so glad to hear you say that. I was wondering when you would.” 

So we went off of the plan, and I stayed home with Danny.

Plenty of mothers stay home with their children, and in today’s times, it can be considered a luxury. 

I certainly hold a lot of gratitude that we can do it. 

However, there are no perfect choices in life, and staying home has not been a panacea. 

It is still hard.

We still have challenges, sleepless nights, and a rigorous daily schedule. 

I am forever with him and so I notice everything. 

I worry about everything. 

There is never a break from the worry.

But there are early mornings. 

I find the quiet where I can. 

I carve out minutes for myself. 

I remind myself that nothing is forever, and “the plan” was a joke anyway.

No one can know what their life is supposed to look like, not really. 

While this life was unanticipated, it is, and it is exactly as it should be.

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