Being Here

When I was pregnant, I boldly told everyone about my plans to return to work--after a healthy maternity leave, of course. I had been the go-to babysitter among our friends and a full-time nanny for a family I loved. So I knew that taking care of kids all day can be really boring.

Staying home, repeating the same mundane routines, eating beige kid food leftovers off plastic plates, and the need to be ever patient with a tiny, developing human wasn't really attractive to me.

I didn't want my involvement with and service to the world to stop at our front door. I didn't want to get caught up in creating the perfect home life and become only inwardly focused. I was also doubtful that I could be an example of truly empowered womanhood if my kids never saw me care about more than their personal comfort.

I read Lean In and was interested in (if not cautiously optimistic about) finding my own path as a working woman.

As a nanny, I saw how important it was for children to have caregivers in their life who they could love and trust in addition to their parents.

I did return to my job after a nice maternity leave. My organization was incredibly supportive of families and I actually brought my daughter with me to most of my job for a whole year. It was pretty amazing. And really hard. It turns out babies need quite a bit of attention--even if your coworkers are incredibly flexible and forgiving. I was doing two jobs at once.

But the hardest part wasn't really getting everything done. The hardest part was coming back to the margins of my life when I wasn't working. Marriage, friendships, self-care, service in my community all took a major back seat. They fought for a spot as my last priority. Every evening was a rush to get something (anything) taken care of. Even after accounting for the new balance of a multiplying family, I didn't feel like myself. I was too busy. And I knew it could be different.

Previously, the slow time and gauzy hormones of postpartum opened me in a new way during maternity leave. I started praying like I never had before. I had no trouble being present with my friends and family, even myself. I joyfully cared for myself, my family, and my friends. And my heart was soft in a new, surprising way. There was a new vulnerability in me during maternity leave that I was curious about but couldn't pay attention to when I went back to work. I cared so much about the world and all the people in it. All the people are, after all, someone else's baby.

Maternity leave gave me a taste of another way of life. I dismissed it for a long time, believing it was some special magic that only happens when you have your first child. You have all the time in the world to mother your one, reasonably demanding ball of squish.

Doing the work of caregiver and my day job became too much. (Obviously.) Not just physically. I was successful on the agenda but I didn't feel any joy or deeper purpose. For me at that time, it became obvious that life was not how I expected it to be and I needed to reassess my choices and (more importantly) how I made them. When I had the chance to reflect, I was completely surprised to find how much I wanted to stay home with my daughter.

My existential longings, paired with the financial reality of impending childcare costs, convinced me to swallow my words and consider staying home. It dawned on me that someone needed to watch the baby and it might as well be me. It's funny to me how this revelation took its own time to finally click. Do other people realize it sooner?

We lost a third of our household income when I stopped working. I was scared because the budget was already (has always been) tight. But I knew that I was proactively making this choice. I wasn't a victim. "I'd rather be broke than busy" is what I said. "I'm buying my own time and presence."

Working that first year taught me I could do it.
Quitting taught me I don't have to. Or not all at once.

As I was leaving my job, my biggest concern was trying to define myself. "Does this mean I'll never go back to work? Am I really a stay-at-home-mom? What does that mean? I hope I don't suddenly start obsessing about trivial domestic tasks."

I had to actively let go of expectations and self judgement.

The lovely truth is that I'm not only reaping the sentimental benefits of being home all the time (first steps, first words, etc.) but I'm also intellectually fascinated about how and when new skills develop in children wholly unprompted (I've never pushed my daughter to reach milestones).

Also, it's just really nice to be in my own home so much. I saw the opportunity to include my own joy in our daily routines and I'm making ways to intentionally enjoy that. I buy myself special tea, I wear my robe, I take baths and read a lot of books (hello I have only one kid), I play a lot of jazz music, and by some miracle I am learning to almost enjoy cooking. Being home most of the day is a gift that I want to relish.

The best news is that I actually feel more free to engage with my community in meaningful ways now that my time is more my own. This is totally privilege and one I do not intend to waste. Every week, when I look ahead, I consider people and events I want to support and show up for. We make time to visit and host friends new and old. I feel like I'm truly teaching my daughter how our lives can be given to greater purposes. Yes, the budget is still tight, but I've learned that coffee and an open heart is about all you need to make someone feel seen, welcomed, and heard.

I totally understand why someone would say that staying home isn't for them. But I do believe there are important lessons one can learn from a season of this kind of parenting. I would encourage any new mothers to be open to all options as their life really changes -- family, time, identity, and capacities are all affected.

I am the first to admit surprise, but I am here. Fully. I'm being here.