Page 47 of Finding the Pieces

It’s draining, to say the least, to sit in the middle while your rational thoughts lose every fight against the incessant drone of anxious ones. The part of youthat will never be satisfied with knowingI tried my best. That part of me that demands I be perfect.

Still, I’m grateful that Dom and I were lucky enough that I could drop my work hours to part time after Luca was born, and even luckier that my employer agreed to the change. It’s not perfect, but for now, it works for us.

I’ve worked at this marketing company since I graduated from college, even interning here during my senior year. My coworkers are nice enough, the pay is fair, and at least the work is second nature to me now. But even the most supportive employer on paper is still an employer at the end of the day.

It doesn’t matter that I didn’t get more than three hours of sleep last night…interrupted, mind you. All that matters is that I show up today, looking professional—minus the dark bags under my eyes that no amount of makeup can conceal—and ready to work.

Being ready to work feels subjective in my case. Am I ready to give 100 percent of what I have? Sure. Do I only have 10 percent in the tank? Damn right. But Luca is with my mom for the day, and I’m here, so I’m going to give it every bit of that 10 percent.

I return to my desk with my coffee and continue working on my presentation for next week. I work from home one day a week and come into the office two days a week. My in-office days are difficult. Constantly checking in with whoever is watching Luca. Stealing glimpses of pictures of him and blinking away the tears at the ache of missing him and wishing I could be in two places at once. Fighting frustration with having to set up in the lactation room several times a day to pump, which isn’t as big of a deal now that Luca is older, eating solids, and nursing less, but in the first few months back at the office, it was torture fitting a pumping schedule into the workday.

The rest of my day is a blur between calls, meetings, and emails, I’m left with little time to actually get my work done. By the time I’m packing up to go home, I’m ready to collapse in a heap on the elevator floor.

Then I remember that I’m a mom, and while I used to be able to go home and put myself to bed at 5:30 p.m. on days when I felt like this, the reality is that my second shift is about to begin.

***

“Here, boy. Hopper, watch Momma!” Bec stands behind me, calling, snapping, and making kissy noises in an attempt to keep Hopper’s attention as he sits with several other therapy dogs in front of The Center for Faithful Companions building.

Therapy dog he may be, but Hopper’s still a bundle of energy just waiting to be unleashed, his tail flopping wildly from side to side behind him as he pants, practically smiling at Bec from yards away.

I snap a few more photos of the dogs before Abby, Bec, and a few other employees leash them. I call out a few directions and capture the last photos I need, including one final shot of all the training facility staff and animals.

When I think I have what they need, I let Bec know and she dismisses everyone while I flip through my film to double-check that there’s nothing we need to reshoot.

Bec and Abby sidle up beside me, peering over my shoulder,oohingandaahingandawingas I flip through the shots. This is my favorite part; hearing their reaction when they see what I see behind the lens.

“Thank you, Ellie. Our website is in serious need of an upgrade. These photos are the last piece of the rebrand the Center needs,” Abby says, squeezing me in a warm hug.

“No thanks needed. It feels good to do this again. First, Bec’s engagement, and now this? I wish I could do this more often,” I say.

Bec gives me a thoughtful look. “Wait, that’s a great idea. Weren’t you just saying you wish you had a more flexible work schedule?”

“Uh, yeah? Where are you going with this?” I ask.

“Do more ofthis,” she exclaims with unbridled enthusiasm. “You haven’t taken photos in years, and just from our engagement and today, it’s clear this is your calling. You should make this your career, Ellie. Would you enjoy that?”

I give it some thought before giving her a noncommittal shrug, beginning to pack away my things. March in Ohio is unpredictable at best, and my fingersare starting to freeze in the chilly breeze as we stand in the parking lot outside the Center. “I mean, have I thought about it before? Sure. But it’s too risky. Definitely not as stable as my current job.”

“Yeah, safe is good. I get it,” Abby says with both understanding and longing in her voice. She has yet to show the girls and me any of her artwork, but I know it calls to her probably even more strongly than photography calls to me. But artist to artist—if you can even call me that—she gets it.

“Sure, safe is one thing. But happiness and fulfillment are another,” Bec says with conviction. She means well, so I try not to let myself act on the defensiveness that flares in my chest from her words.

“I’m happy with my job,” I say, most likely convincing no one, since the words taste like the lie they are coming out of my mouth.

“It’s easy to dream but painful to admit that’s what you want in case you don’t ever get to see the dream become a reality,” Abby says softly. “Have you considered if this is what you really want? Or if that’s something you and Dom could ever make work?”

“I haven’t thought about it since college. I started my internship when I was a senior, and sort of fell into a permanent position. I’ve been at the same company ever since. I guess I never dreamed beyond that. Then when we got pregnant, I was focused on other things, only really thinking of my job in a sense of financial practicality and logistics.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Ellie. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to imply what you’re doing is wrong. I just loved seeing you behind the camera today,” Bec says, fiddling with Hopper’s leash. “You should consider if it’s something you’d want. If it is, mention it to Dom. Daydream about it together. It doesn’t matter if it’s in a year or ten. Maybe someday, it’ll make sense for you to try.”

“Which is why we want to give you this,” Abby says, handing me an envelope.

“What exactly is this?” I ask.

“I know you said you’d do this for free, but we talked to our supervisor, Tonya, to see if there was any room in the budget to reimburse you for your time and talent. There are also a few employee donations in there, too, since everyone knows you’ll be at New Hope next weekend to take photos for the shelter too.We’re excited to see the Center and New Hope websites both get a refresh. Especially with New Hope’s new partnership with the Columbus Aviators, we want to be ready for this season,” Bec explains.

Another point for Aiden. Of course, the man shows up in every way possible to support Bec in all that she cares about, which is why last year he worked with the Aviators’ community engagement team to help facilitate a partnership between his professional baseball team and the local animal shelter Bec volunteers at, New Hope.

---