On Thursday we took Theo to his first doctor's appointment. In the pile of paperwork I had to fill out was a little section that asked questions about the patient's home life: Who in the home uses alcohol or drugs? Is there a gun in the home? Have there been any stressful changes in the home recently? I almost put down "New baby" in that blank, but then I realized that they were wondering about anything that would be stressful to the patient, that is Theo, who is the new baby. There was another obvious answer to the 'new stress' question, but, again, I didn't put it down because I don't think it's stressful to Theo, as he is blissfully unaware of anything besides the scent of my mammary glands. Actually, Theo and Simon both are happily ignorant of the fact that Nate lost his job two weeks ago.
When he came home and told me that he had been fired, I didn't freak out. All I could really focus on at the time was my pregnancy, specifically, when was it going to end? Theo was born almost a week later, and his impending arrival kept my mind off the job loss for that week and most of the following week. It's pretty easy to ignore your dire financial circumstances when your nipples are throbbing night and day.
But now baby care is becoming more routine, and the reality of our situation is setting in. Nate has been looking for jobs full time. He leaves in the morning as if he is going to work, but instead heads to the library to comb through job listings. He feels like he has a pretty good sense of his options at this point, and the options are very limited to say the least. So limited, in fact, we are at this point considering moving to Peoria. Nate could get a job at Caterpillar there. We could pay less in rent. We could hover further above the poverty line than we are now. He could get a job that would give him valuable work experience.
Moving is pretty much the only thing that makes sense at this point. I know that. I really do. I want to be grown up about this, and make a wise, grown-up decision. It's hard, though, because the thought of leaving here --- this apartment, this neighborhood, this city --- makes me sick to my stomach. I can't think about it without crying, and I believe that these tears are driven by more than just postpartum hormones.
God, all I do is cry anymore. No wonder no one wants to come visit us.
Here is some cuteness to try to balance out the mood of this post. Enjoy.