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I write this post under duress. I don’t want to go back to work. I don’t care that my 12 weeks is up. I don’t care that I have to start making money or getting benefits for my kids. I just want more time with my boys. I hate the people I work with, and the idea of trading the hours of my day in exchange for not nearly enough money so I can put my kids in daycare is beyond upsetting. I spent days crying about it. I don’t wanna.

Due to a complete failure on the part of my HR department, they have me starting work back again on a Friday, so I get 11.9 weeks of leave instead of the 12. I realize when I arrive that I left my breast pump at home, so I tell my husband that he needs to bring the baby by (he doesn’t start school until the Monday following). I end up nursing the baby sitting on the floor of my office because we can’t get comfortable anywhere else. It’s all I can do to hold myself together, knowing he’s going to be someone else’s buddy next week while I have to work alone.

The people in the office are on their best behavior. I can tell that someone talked about what they want them to act like when I got back. It feels even more uncomfortable, this fake niceness, than the thinly veiled hostility I was used to. I’m too tired to care. These people barely register on my radar anymore. I just want to get through the obligation of time and home to the boys. 4:00 can’t come fast enough.