Back to Work, Whatever That Means

I used to hate that question, the one that all adults ask every little kid at some point in their childhood. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" At first, I didn't mind it because I knew exactly what the answer was. It was as clear as the bright blue sky on a warm day. "A mom." That's it. That's what I wanted. As far as I was concerned, there wasn't anything else on the planet that could compare.

And then I got a little bit older and I started hating the question. "Well sure you want to be a mom, but what kind of job do you want to do?" What? Being a mom didn't count? Well, uh, ok...then I guess...hmm...I got nothing. I guess I started to think that being a mom wasn't enough.

Still older I grew, and before I knew it I had an answer. I wanted to be a pediatrician (perhaps because it involved caring for children...) until I took an anatomy class in high school. The day we took a field trip to tour a cadaver lab, that dream was a wash.

So then more time passed and I began my quest for that elusive calling, the one that would guide me into my career and give me joy, happiness, and the approval of society. It took me a long time to find something--anything--that put wind in my sails as much as the thought of being a mom did. But I did. Publishing. Oh, how I loved it. The editing. The writing. The creating. The learning. All of it was so inspiring and exciting. But to make a long story short, my career in publishing was short lived. I loved it, for the most part, but I didn't love the things we were publishing or the overall mentality of the company for which I worked. I think it's because I was working on books that I didn't believe in, on a very deep and profound level, and I started questioning the ethics of what I did every day.

And then a door opened, one that I didn't foresee and certainly didn't expect since walking through this door would pluck me right out of the publishing business and put me smack dab in the middle of education. Education at my old high school, even, where I'd be colleagues with some of my high school teachers. Sounds glamorous, no?

But a change was needed, so through the door I went. I became a college counselor, a job which I knew I could do because, well, I'd had a lot of experience in the whole "getting into college" game. And the "make your way through multiple colleges" game, if I'm honest. The opportunity became a lifesaver for me in many ways. My spirit began to breathe and stretch and move again, whereas it had been idle, as if in a sound sleep for far too long. Pretty soon I became inspired again, inspired to let the writer in me get out of the box I kept it stored in. That writer began to stretch its legs and get moving again.

And then I found out I was going to be a mom. And my original dream, the one that never left me, emerged again. It was always there, but it had been buried for quite some time, hidden deep down inside my heart. Suddenly nothing in the world could compare with the idea of being a mom, and not having to do anything but simply be that.

For 8 weeks, I got a taste of it. It was hard. Very hard. But the kind of hard that makes you realize how valuable, how important it is. I felt more authentically myself during the last couple of weeks of my leave. Being a mom and being a writer were starting to merge into one new way of life. I loved it.

Going back to work (whatever that means) was the hardest thing I've ever done. It was even harder than the  giving birth part (which was no picnic).  My first week back was better than I imagined it would be, but I was in a state of mourning every day, deep down inside. Going back to work was the death of a dream. It was something I so fervently did not want to do, deep down in my bones it just felt so wrong. And yet, there I was, dropping my precious little girl off at a sitter's house and walking away.

I guess as a mother, you do what you have to do, right? Going "back to work" is a misnomer because when I was home, I was working. I'm learning that just because I work outside the home doesn't mean I'm not a mom. I may not be a stay-at-home-mom, but I'm still a full-time mom--and there's no way to change that. I'm not off mom duty when Addie's with the sitter. I'm still thinking about her, praying for her, and taking care of her from a distance. And when she needs me, I'm there in matter of moments. And when I get home from my outside job, I'm still working, very hard, until the moment I finally fall into bed at night. And even then, I'm not off duty. These are the things that don't stop, not when you're a mom.

Being back at work isn't my favorite. I'd much rather spend my days with my little munchkin, sneaking writing breaks in here and there as she sleeps or plays on her own, but for now, I'm working on accepting my new normal and being thankful for the way God has given us a situation that is as ideal as it is (how many moms can walk over to nurse their baby on their lunch break?). It's a rough transition, one that I'm not sure I'll ever truly like, but one that I'm choosing to see the positives in.