At 38, I faced the toughest decision of my career: whether I wanted to continue working.
I had been working since I was a teenager and had never considered not doing so.
When my husband and I got married, we discussed what our future would look like with children, and I naively thought it would all work out seamlessly. That I would balance my career and motherhood with ease.
Then reality hit.
I decided to stay home
As first-time parents, it was soon evident that the balancing act was an illusion. We decided that I would stay at home with our son during his early years, a decision that left me grappling with a weight I never saw coming.
The sleepless nights and endless diapers, those topics get talked about. What blindsided me were the invisible battles.
Courtesy of the author
On paper, we could make it on my husband’s income alone, but life isn’t as tidy as a piece of paper. I went in knowing that our lifestyle would change, becoming a one-car family, thrifting more, and eating out less, but what I didn’t anticipate was the way my relationship with money would change.
I felt guilty when I spent money
After two decades of working, I was used to making and spending my own money. I never felt bad about my monthly manicures, grabbing dinner with friends, or buying my husband a birthday gift.
Now, every time I wanted to purchase something a wave of guilt swept over me and I felt as though I was spending someone else’s money.
While my husband constantly assured me that it was our money, memories of my mom and step-dad arguing over who made more and therefore who was more “valuable” haunted me.
Eventually, I found ways to earn a small income outside a traditional 9-to-5, from freelance writing to mystery shopping, until I took on a part-time work-from-home job, which gave me a sense of financial autonomy.
My résumé didn’t matter anymore
Over the course of my career, I had built up an impressive résumé of experience, industry certifications, and specialized knowledge. When I became a stay-at-home mom, none of it mattered.
My days were filled with changing diapers, cleaning up spit-up from the oddest places, and all the other day-to-day responsibilities that come with parenting. I was left wondering if I was wasting everything I had worked so hard for.
What I wish I could have told myself back then was that my time in the professional world, combined with my time as the primary caregiver, would provide me with the insights and opportunities I now have.
But in the moment, I was too far in the trenches and simply felt as though I had let myself down. And the loss I felt went beyond my career. It was about who I was becoming.
My identity shifted
When I became a mom, I knew my identity would shift, but I didn’t fully appreciate how much it would impact me and how others would view me.
No longer was I greeted with, “How are you doing, Laura?” Now it was “How are you doing, mama?”
The identity of being a mom overshadowed all the other components of me.
Who was I now that I didn’t have an official title, now that I wasn’t receiving recognition for my contributions, and now that my biggest accomplishment was reaching the end of the day wearing the same shirt I started with?
I felt untethered. The old me no longer existed, the new me was in survival mode, and the future me was still being formed.
I felt so guilty
During my career break, there was a faithful companion by my side: guilt.
The guilt took many forms, from feeling guilty that I didn’t enjoy every moment to feeling guilty that I wished I worked outside the house.
I grappled with it alone until I found a group of women who understood. Some had taken a career break because they had always wanted to; others because it made financial sense.
When I finally said my feelings out loud, I felt understood, supported, and most importantly, seen. While it didn’t erase the guilt or my struggles, I was reminded I wasn’t alone.
Today, I have the privilege of working with women as they wrestle with these same emotions.
It turns out the journey that once felt like losing myself became the path to finding my purpose.
