It will come as no surprise, as it’s true for many millennial women, that I was raised from a young age to believe that I could not only be anything, but I could be all things. I heard the societal cry that I should not limit my professional ambitions and, in the process, place no limit on raising a family either. We, women, could and should “have it all”: successful careers and healthy, growing families.
I currently find myself at a crossroads, weighing the decision to rejoin the workforce or to stay home with my little ones.
I’ve always held a desire to become a mother, but I never saw myself staying home and caregiving full-time. I wanted to work, earn money, and challenge myself professionally. As an ambitious feminist, I went to college, where I studied genetics and biotechnology. There was always another goal on the horizon, another class to take, or a promotion to work toward.
Now, with two small children, I’ve been both a full-time working mother and a stay-at-home mom. I currently find myself at a crossroads, weighing the decision to rejoin the workforce or to stay home with my little ones. Unfortunately, finding work again has proven more difficult than I expected, but staying home makes me feel professionally unfulfilled. On the other hand, I want to enjoy the time I have with my kids while they’re still so young. I feel stuck, uncertain about what’s right for me and for my family. Even though I’ve already tried both routes, I still don’t know what’s right for me.
I met my (now) husband while he was finishing his PhD in material science. At that time, I was completing prerequisite classes for graduate school. What a perfect, overachieving pair of nerds we were. My academics were temporarily put on hold while he finished his degree and I worked in a laboratory analyzing chromosomes so that we could both have health insurance. “No problem,” I told myself. I would simply take my turn at graduate school once he was finished and working.
Although I started a master’s program in molecular biology the semester before our wedding, a cross-country move cut that degree short. Again, I told myself this was merely a temporary issue that would be remedied within a year or two.
But then, my own biology kicked in. I was ready for a baby. My husband was too. So we tried. And tried. And after a year of trying, I was officially diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome. I was told my condition would make conceiving more difficult, but “Hey, at least you’re still young!” Little comfort in a time when things are supposed to be “easy.”
Maybe it was those pesky postpartum hormones, but I found myself surprised when I went back to work and felt “torn.”
Thankfully I got pregnant after multiple rounds of medications and testing. After a bleeding scare in my second trimester had me convinced I was doomed to lose her, my daughter was born. She was perfect and I loved being a mom, although I could do without the sleep deprivation. Maybe it was those pesky postpartum hormones, but I found myself surprised when I went back to work and felt “torn.” Sure, I could still get the job done, but I wasn’t as compelled to work overtime or start a new project. I missed my daughter and wanted to be with her more.
I considered the possibility that this feeling could be due, at least in part, to the fact that I hadn’t finished the educational goals I had set for myself, and thus my work wasn’t what I had expected it to be. Or perhaps I had convinced myself early on that I shouldn’t want to stay home. I’d invested so much in my education and spent close to a decade of work in the lab. Intentionally staying out of the paid workforce never felt like an option because I had been pushing myself, chasing academic and professional trophies, from the beginning. Either way, I, the one who said she would never do it in a million years, became a stay-at-home mom.
And it was great! My daughter and I were the social butterflies of suburbia, flying from library story times to toddler playdates. But there was a fair amount of monotony too. And it only made sense that I took on more household work, the kinds I didn’t particularly care for, like cooking and cleaning.
Two years later, my son was born and I started to feel (again) like maybe I should go back to work. The biotech world was expanding with more noninvasive prenatal screens, immunotherapy, and game-changing CRISPR technology. While I could certainly read about these things all day, I wanted to be in it. I felt like I was missing out on my professional potential, but every time I thought about it, I’d be hit with my internal guilt saying, “Why aren’t you enjoying being with your kids? Don’t you love them? Other moms would KILL to be in your position.”
But I needed a break. That’s the thing about being a stay-at-home mom. You don’t get sick days and you live with your “work” 24/7. I picked up some freelance writing work, another venture that I never expected to pursue, and reveled in the occasional days that I had time to sit down, focus, and write. This all but confirmed that I wanted to go back to work.
Not only that, but I wanted to contribute financially to my family at the same level that I had been before I had kids. My contribution would not be essential for our family’s survival, but it would be more than a helpful cushion. After all, we had spent the last several years on a single income, and while we weren’t struggling, we weren’t spending a whole lot either. With my (hypothetical) additional income, I imagined the types of experiences we could provide for them. But then that guilt crept back into my head saying, “They’re only little once. Why are you wasting this time?” We’d go to playdates with other kids or on a particularly fun outing, like apple picking, and I would wonder what my problem was, because things felt great. The days that everything mostly fell into place were full of Instagram-worthy pictures. There were so many selfies with the kids that I still find myself scrolling through.
Nonetheless, I decided to take a job doing remote admin work, but I’ve found myself recently in a type of purgatory. Getting back into the workforce at the level I left has proven much more daunting than I imagined. The childcare that I trust, and that my children love and thrive within, doesn’t come cheap. Currently, I’m working in a position that barely covers the cost. And landing this job took months. I keep looking and applying, with little success, and I wonder if this is life’s way of making the decision for me.
That’s the thing about being a stay-at-home mom. You don’t get sick days and you live with your “work” 24/7.
I’m lucky not only to be in such a privileged position that I actually get to have a choice, but to have a partner who’s supportive too. He wants what’s best for our family, which includes my happiness. Sometimes, I wish he had a stronger preference. That way I didn’t have to figure it out for myself and could simply defer to the most practical way forward, instead of the weird in-between where I feel like I’m not doing a whole lot of good for anyone.
I’ve been told, as with many issues in motherhood, that I’ll just intuitively know what’s best for my family. When it comes to finances, that’s easy enough. Money in has to be greater than money out. But should there be more to what makes me feel whole, as a person? This is what I’m trying to figure out. But, for now, I’m stuck and unsure, wondering what I should be doing and trying to figure out what really is best for my family—and me.
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