Feeling kind of down today. I guess I just never can get everything done that I want to. There is always more to clean and that task becomes more difficult during the week. Sundays are always oddly hard. After a week of fretting about pumping and trying to squeeze sessions in, I worry if I have done enough. The answer is always a nagging "no".

The reality that I have to go to work tomorrow creeps in. I hate leaving Eliot and thinking of the ounces I labored for being swallowed too quickly and running out. I hate getting the key to the vacant cubicle to pump and self-consciously hoping that no one can hear the "womp womp" of the pump. And listening closely to determine if anyone is around so I can quickly and inefficiently wash my pump and throw it into my bag. Each week gets more difficult, not less, as my mind is beginning to realize that this leaving my baby is a routine that I am establishing, not an exception.

Every Monday morning as I pack my bag, I wonder what I am doing and why. I get a scholarship for this, not a pay check. My paid work is done at home.

The truth is that I have it easy. I work one day. One. For ten hours. And I might be away from Eliot, but he is with Chris. I see them for lunch and Chris brings me dinner. I don't have a thing to complain about. It is still hard, though.