I Chose to Go Back

I learned how to do laundry when I was pretty young. I wasn’t too interested in that or other chores at the time; instead, I was much more intent on playing Doctor, researching diseases thoroughly beforehand and turning a playdate into an episode of House. I mean, what other six-year-old regularly diagnoses her friends with brain cancer or polio or arrhythmia (and forces them to have the symptoms of those diseases). But I still did my laundry, albeit begrudgingly, thinking all the while that I was destined for better.

My mom was a SAHM, and a damn good one, I might add. I saw firsthand how hard she worked: My sister and I are 11 months apart, and when we were able to give her hell (read: When we were born), we made it our life mission to do just that. She cooked, cleaned, kept us kids in line, added a third baby to the mix seven years after my sister, and was sure to greet my dad when he came in from a day of work.

But I never saw myself doing the same.

Instead, I was the mom who counted down the days until her maternity leave was over, who checked her work emails on her iPhone while putting her baby down for a nap. I was raised by a SAHM, and after I got a taste of it during leave, I knew it was a job for which I was not cut out.

I was told that it would be hard. Perhaps one of the hardest things in my entire life. But despite knowing that I wasn’t made to be a SAHM, I still didn’t anticipate just how difficult going back to work would really be. When I went to drop him off at daycare for the first time, maternity leave suddenly felt like forever that passed in the blink of an eye.

Did I miss being at home? Absolutely! There’s a small part of me that nags almost daily about how I should be at home, raising my son and keeping house while my husband goes off to work (hello, 1950s mindset, where did you come from?). We’ve even discussed the possibility of me staying home after Tycho and a possible second baby went off to elementary school and we didn’t need to pay for daycare, a conversation that went like this:

Matt: *looks with disdain around the house* “I’m starting to see the merits of a stay-at-home wife.”

Me: *snorts* “Yeah, if I didn’t have any kids to wrangle.”

(I saw my mom’s life. That shit was HARD, yo, keeping house while two tyrants chased after you, destroying any progress you might have made.)

But for now, I’m completely content being a working mama, and I know that my son is well cared for, too, which certainly helps. Like every other aspect of parenting, there’s no right way to approach the question of whether a mom should stay home or head back to work; me working just happens to be best for our family (and my sanity – to enjoy that one cup of coffee on my own, no distractions? Heaven!). Ultimately, it makes me a better mom.

We all make sacrifices regardless of the path we choose, and sometimes it’s about the sacrifices we’re willing (or need) to make. I’m fortunate that I have the ability to return to work, both financially and emotionally, and I’m equally as fortunate to know that, if I ever wanted to become a SAHM, we could make that happen, too.

Are or were you a SAHM? WOHM? What sacrifices did you make to make that happen?