When I told my husband, after being married about 6 months, that I was ready to have a kid, he was ecstatic! I still don’t understand how it happened, because if you had asked me the week earlier, I would have told you I will have kids in a few years. But one day it hit me and about 5 months later, we were pregnant.

At the time, I was still working as a high school math teacher in south Los Angeles. I had no intentions of leaving my job. I loved my work! I loved my students, my coworkers, and the type of teaching I was doing.

I also loved being pregnant.

I had no idea what being a parent really was all about.. and I guess most of us never do when we take the dive. It all sounds nice in theory, we have the few ideals we know we want to instill, we have our life partner we know we want to have kids with, and we have the mindset that we can do it. Hey, why not? Many of us keep that teenager mindset that we can do anything! (I am still in my 20’s so I’m sure future 30-something me is smacking her head right now)

But really, having a baby is an unknown mystery, and honestly that’s the appeal. If most of us knew exactly what being a parent was all about, we would rethink it. Ignorance is bliss after all?

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being a mom… I am just setting the background.

So I am working, and pregnant, facilitating “a-ha” moments in my students day after day.

Fast forward 9 months. Beautiful baby Franky came, and my life changed forever.

I feel the happiness flood over, and the responsibility along with it. I stay up at night between the feedings and changings, wondering if my husband and I are doing enough?

• Have we talked enough?
• Have we prepared enough?
• Are we on the same page enough?
• Do we have the same parenting strategy ideas?

I mean all these thoughts took over when I realized that I now am going to raise this little guy and that I better do it right. I started to seriously reflect on my childhood. I began dissecting every moment, every action and reaction, every punishment, and wondering if I would be like my parents when I discipline my child.

Meanwhile summer came and went, and it was time to go back to school, back to work. My son was only 2 months old and people in my life kept telling me not to go back. I heard about how hard it was going to be, how much my son needed me, etc. But I didn’t listen. I LOVED my job. (I also loved getting paid)

So I ignored everyone.

I went back to work.

And I cried the whole drive, hard.

One hour of hard, intense, crying on my way to work the first day. I was sad as the day approached, but I had no idea that this type of crying would take over me the moment I drove away from home. The feeling is unimaginable, like feeling your heart breaking. It felt wrong. It felt so, horribly, wrong to be leaving my little baby so soon. It felt like I was not only going to die because I missed him so much, but that I was an utter failure because now I was not there to raise my little guy.

But I pushed on because that’s what I do.

Day after day, I pushed on to continue working. Leaving my son for 11 hours a day. Crying the entire hour drive there. Speeding recklessly the entire hour drive back to see him sooner.

Not to mention spending my entire workday watching the cameras on my phone.

Yes, we had cameras in our house. Yes, you may judge, or not.

Look, our nanny was really great and she knew about the cameras. It was never to spy on her…initially. We first put them in because I honestly missed my son and wanted to see him during the day.

But then Franky began rolling and becoming more aware. And with that comes more responsibility as a caretaker. Now I was looking at the cameras and continuously judging our nanny. She had great intentions and a good heart. But she wasn’t me. And she was from a different generation that had different ideas about parenting than I did.

I spent all day staring at the cameras, and texting my husband things I saw and disagreed with. It was EXHAUSTING.

The biggest thing she did was constantly use her phone in front of Franky. My husband and I always agreed on no screen time from the start. So it bugged me that she was using her big iPhone 6 Plus while holding him, even after reminding  her of our wishes. She also tended to use a pacifier to ‘shut him up’ when he cried. I hated this.

I always talked with her if I saw something I disagreed with. She was open and always listened. Well… listened is a vague term, because she sat and nodded. But as English was not her native language, I never knew how much she really understood. Anyway…

I knew I couldn’t keep living like this.

Waking up at 4:30am to take care of Franky, drive to work at 6, watch the camera and judge all day, get home at 5, spend 2 cranky hours with my baby, put him down, spend a couple more zombie-d hours in front of the tv eating dessert with my husband because that was our only alone time, and repeat.

The worst part… I began resenting my job. My job that I loved!

The feeling that I was going to continue missing things like Franky one day crawling, walking, talking, made me resent the hours I spent helping other students. I didn’t want to resent that.

That’s when I had my own aha moment. I realized, then, why so many pushed me to take time off from work to be with my son. But my aha moment was not just to take some extra time off, it was to become a stay at home mom. My aha moment was admitting that this is what I craved deep down but was too afraid of admitting it, and too afraid to leave my job behind.

Soon after, I gave my one month notice at work.

I spent the next month breaking the news to my homeroom of 30 11th graders who I had since freshman year. This was the class I was supposed to walk across the stage when they were seniors, call out their names as they reached their diplomas, and smile out to their families (who for the majority were witnessing the first member of their family to graduate high school).

I spent that month crying with my other 70 10th graders who I had the previous year as 9th graders because I was going to grow with them for four years through the curriculum I was teaching. The kids who came to me as mistrusting, unconfident freshman, but who I was leaving as capable, resourceful, collaborative sophomores.

It was one excruciating month later that I came home from my last day with tears in my eyes for leaving my students and staff mid semester.

I came home to a 5 month old baby boy who that night had his first scoot forward, the beginning signs of crawling.

I had made the right decision.

This. This felt right.