Hi, J.. Whewwww, this is a tough time, I know. Go ahead and cry today, tomorrow.... here's a kleenex, hon.
I was 24 when my son, Noah, was born and I worked full time. I took 8 weeks of maternity leave and had to return back to the office. So from very early on, he was in a daycare situation.
And yes, I hear you and feel you. My heart felt ripped from my chest every day and all through the day. Especially the mornings he had a fever or cough.... and then the "walking on eggshells" with work when I had to ration my "call in sick" cards. You know what I mean; they're not always "understanding". Add to this, I was one of the few employees under 50, so no shoulders to cry on, save a grandmother or two.
I missed my son's first step, his first word and his first "out of diaper" experience. This KILLED me and I decided I didn't deserve to be anybody's mother. I almost entered a form of depression, but was too frikkin' busy and exhausted to have time for it, good lord.
so, I stuck it out. We had to, I was the benefits provider, my husband a carpenter with "iffy" winter work, etc...
A bit later, I gave birth to my second child - by THAT time my husband's career path stabilized (we were very young, understand) and he could now provide our benefits. I gave my notice and switched gears to SAHM (but also WAHM doing minimal consulting for friends with small businesses and computer issues... it's not an easy transition suddenly cutting off one income).
In the long run, I witnessed Grace's first steps (9 months old - brother helped teach her), first words and initiation into toilet use (17 months old - again, brother taught her). I was grateful to "witness this FINALLY"... for about 3 minutes until I realized all the fanfare her brother had received for these achievements; hell, a virtual PARTY in his daycare setting. And here's the 3 of us clapping our hands, saying "yeayyy" and me making phone calls.
Noah definitely had the better "first" experiences, I have to say. It's not about me anyway, it's about them.
I digress, sorry.
So for 2 years, my son spent every week day two doors down from our house at a little daycare center (run by ANGELS, absolute angels).
On the days I'd show up at 6pm and my son would be in the arms of one of the retired Grandmothers, in a rocking chair, it was hard when he clung to her and didn't want to come to me.
But because of that, I NEVER worried about him or his safety; his innocence... none of it. My heart ached, yes - but there was a "surety" in what I was doing, as well (bittersweet, I know).
J., in time - truth be told - I learned about the comfort of strangers, that family goes beyond blood and that I don't "own" my children. I couldn't expect him to place me above this "other family" of his just because we have the same genetic code. I learned a lot in that heart wrenching, 2 year boot camp of life lessons. It made me look at my children as individuals with individual dreams, passions, rights.... creatures of life I had to learn to "engage" and not expect to "mold, shape or control". I learned A LOT, thank God. And I don't believe I could have learned so much in such a short time from ANY other experience. Some things can't be learned in the absence of humility and faith.
Now, had I not done this - worked, had my heart broken every day - we might not have had Grace.... or 4 years later, Elisabeth. At least not with the ease that we did.
My job paid 100% medical. It covered Noah's birth, my pre/post natal care AND the same with Grace. My job afforded me the path I ultimately took. It was ONLY a job - but it was a necessary bridge. I never had to worry about health care for any of us. By no means was "that job" anything I was passionate about. It was good money and, like I said, a necessary bridge - for that time.
Twelve years later, I can write to you and look back on that time and tell you I fully understand and accept gratefully "how that went down", despite my tears, my heartache.... all of it. I have NO regrets.
Why? My son spent 2 years being socialized and loved by strangers who turned out to become family. By the time Grace was born (they are 18 months apart) he was potty trained and pretty self sufficient, never saw his baby sister as competition, he actually tried to parent her, became very outgoing and outspoken (especially now).... Bonus: He got all his colds/flu's out of the way early and had the immune system of a cockroach by the time he was 4. :-)
Noah is my oldest and my only son - perhaps he needed to become an independent authority figure in our dynamic. He and I are very close today and he knows I rely on him to be a third voice of reason around here sometimes. He's good at that, though.
That's how those few years played out and it was supposed to be that way, I understand that now. I believe everything happens for a reason and you can't force necessary situations. If something isn't right, J., warnings go off all around you. Things fall apart, you begin to feel distant, you begin to "not care".
Guilt is a form of warning, sure - but it's also a strong sign of love. It activates your conscience.
Your daughter knows and loves her mother. Her nanny is her friend/playmate the way an older sibling is. She loves her nanny, too. Try to accept that your child can love and love and love many people the way you know you have limitless, undivided love for her, your husband... future children. Love has no limits.
In my opinion, you will be able to use this experience years from now when you tell her, with full conviction, that a woman can make her mark in the world, that she should be able to depend on herself first and that she will do anything for the welfare of her family. This sounds impertinent now, doesn't it? But time flies and you are merely a vehicle for her. You are her teacher. Mentor-ship is right up there with LOVE.
A good teacher does not instruct, a good teacher inspires a child to want to learn. You are setting a good example, J., even if you won't see that until it's in your rearview mirror.