the struggle

To be practical is not always the most easy thing to do.

Everytime you turn to your nanny when you are sleepy, hungry or hurt - everytime I spread my arms for you, and the person you run to, is your nanny, all pretensions of being practical are thrown out of the window.

To say that it hurts, is an understatement.

I think of why I choose to spend 10 hours in the company of strangers and not you. I think of why I leave you with a nanny, instead of holding you myself, but it does little to ease the pain.
some day, my dear daughter, when you are old enough, I hope you understand why your mother wasnt with you when you took your first steps or said your first word, you will know why every small little detail is documented in videos that are crudely made.
you see, I love you. I want you to be able to choose the life you want for yourself, without having to worry about any financial implications.

I want you to be able to attend the colleges of your choice, travel by modes of transport that do not include copassengers who are lice infested fisherwomen, and maybe someday, the freedom to spend your daughter's childhood with her instead of spending 10 hours a day working and worrying about the projects and bottomlines of companies whose CEOs and CFOs you havent even heard of.

I want all those things for you my baby, that I deemed as luxury when I grew up,

but I cant stop wondering, if we both are losing out on the luxury of knowing and loving each other today, for the luxury of a tomorrow, that I dont even know will shape the way we want it to.