My work hours are so erratic I can't say definitively when I can take my meals. And when I do, I have to eat like a turkey: gobble gobble gobble. Sometimes I don't remember chewing or breathing between bites.
I'm up at odd hours and only manage to sleep in 2-3 hour intervals with bonus cat naps in between. That is, if I am not taking care of other business like doing the laundry or baking for my other clients.
I don't have breaks and I don't get vacation leaves. Perhaps a forced leave if I were to get sick but God-willing, that won't happen during these most critical months.
But the best part of my job is when he lies in my arms, a quiet, satisfied customer. As ridiculously objectified as I feel, knowing I'm rendering service well-appreciated is something I will always cherish and seeing him grow is my reward for devoting those odd hours to him. Heck, I'm even grateful to see his output, no matter how messy and hard to clean it is.
It will be a long time still before I can say I've done my job--if it ever ends at all. This is not 9-5 but 24/7. And I will always wonder if I'm doing the right thing.
With guidance and by grace, I'll find out when he's grown.
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