The Daycare Question

Ever since I was a young girl I was able to write myself out of any state of malcontent, be it frustrations within my home life, crushes or tensions in friendships. Oddly enough, now as a mother, I’ve experienced a complete writer’s block surrounding the current stressful situation we find ourselves in: Ivan is without a daytime caregiver.
Back in November we sourced a wonderful family for him to spend his days with. Much time was taken to acquaint him with these new people who would see him more often than we would. On top of many visits before our contract began, I took half a week from work for ‘transitioning’, where Ivan interacted with his daycare provider for a few hours before mummy came for him. He seemed to like her quite a bit, loved her food and her own two children, 15 months and 2.5 years of age, played well with him. On the seventh day the lovely lady took a bad tumble down her stairs as the children slept and she tried to get a load of laundry done. Yes - awful for everyone concerned. John and I made arrangements with our employers to take alternate days to stay home with Ivan and my dear friend Heather helped us for two days a week. My boss granted me a month out of the office so that I could wait out the healing period of the lady who fell. In the meantime we did enlist another caregiver and former nanny to look after him. Ivan had one day of transition and on the second day, when left alone, away from mum and dad, he cried from 7:30 AM until 2:30 PM, taking breaks to eat only, when we were called to pick him up. She gave us all his belonging back and apologized to us for being unable to continue care due to his disruptive sadness.
Believing cracked ribs should heal properly in 6 weeks time, I figured one month of Personal Emergency Leave from work would suffice. Last week I learned that the lady who was once wonderful in my eyes, has since become addicted to pain killers and will not be looking after Ivan again. After a day of deep depression and soul searching I got myself together: to make calls contacting the waiting list which I have been on since I was five month pregnant, to run an advertisement for a governess, to answer ads for unlicensed daycares even though their locations were twenty minutes backwards from our daily drive into business, to fathom the idea of giving up my career in favour of being a stay-at-home mother, to attend childcare connections meetings, to interview at the homes of other daycare providers and almost run screaming from their buildings.
Here I am tonight having made a decision, after enjoying the better half of my week, walking in beautiful spring-like weather, with my best friend Heather and chatting with other parents who bring their children to a sweet, tidy woman in our neighbourhood. Her name is Tewabech. She has her certificate in Early Childhood Education and cares for four infants/toddlers. Ivan and I planned to meet this particular lady at a Parenting and Literary Program on Monday for playtime. On Tuesday through Thursday we’ll attempt half-days and by next Friday my hope is that our big little boy will begin to get used to the idea of being elsewhere while we scrape together a college fund for him.