|
Continued from previous page
I decided to stop working and had my daughter, Rebecca,
but knew my decision was based on much more than
child care problems. Families, I had realized, take a lot of
work, time and effort. You can't schedule them into a weekend.
Children are exposed to unbelievable influences. Who
was going to debrief them at the end of the day? When, I had
asked myself, would I deal with the social issues, the academic
issues, the cupcakes for the holiday party?
During my "have it all" years an inner voice became louder
and louder and it told me that I wanted to be the one to
raise my children. The extra money, the intellectual stimulation,
and the sense of fulfillment I got from pursuing a
career ultimately paled in comparison to my need to experience
the full measure of emotional satisfaction that derived
from simply spending time, and a lot of it, with my two
young children.
I also wanted to impart my own values to my children.
In light of current events, I was afraid for my kids. I believed
it was critical to actively help them develop a worldview that
would help them successfully navigate through so much dysfunction.
Today I don't know if I've been successful, but I do
know that I have tried.
Finally, I realized that "work" would always be there. (This
is what I told my husband when he started calculating the net
loss to our buying power. I figured he could retire a few years
before me, and I'd make up for lost time at the other end).
When Rebecca was about three, I started working part-time.
I did some freelance consulting at a local hospital, which
led to a part-time ongoing consulting position with a local
health-focused nonprofit. I've since taught a bit as an adjunct
faculty member at a few local colleges. I guess it's obvious that
my name isn't likely to be found among those who have
"made it" in the Class Notes section of this magazine. I'm
probably underemployed, and I joke that I don't know what
to do with my life because none of the parameters that were
in place when I began are even remotely relevant today.
Thus, my choice has not come without lots of self-doubt
and second-guessing. I believe many women who have chosen
this path – or not chosen it – feel similarly conflicted.
There's nothing clear cut or predictable about life for women
today – they have endless choices and options, and this is a
wonderful reality. But it is also confusing and pressure-filled
as we try to balance everything and sometimes find we simply
can't. I often feel I should be further along in some sort
of career at this point in my life, but don't even know what
I want my career to look like – now, or in the future. On one
hand, I know that I'll figure it out eventually and that my
accomplishments are more intrinsic than an executive level
position and a hefty W-2. On the other hand, though, those
benchmarks undeniably have their allure.
But at the end of the day when I reflect back on my
accomplishments, I need only appreciate the stability of my
family and the reasonably well-adjusted children I'm fortunate
enough to be raising. I pick my kids up at school most
days. When they get a day off, or a week, I can usually spend
it with them. I've been the room mother for both my children's
classes. I've been the treasurer of the PTA (and even
caught a teacher who had been absconding with PTA funds
for several years!). I've chaired committees, baked brownies,
and gone on fieldtrips. I know most of the other kids in the
grade with my children, and many of the parents. These are
the perks that come with my lifestyle.
Do I have it all, finally? No, but I have come to realize
that there's really no such thing. I believe that my kids are
getting what they need: they are growing up quickly, and in
a few short years, they won't need me to be so present in the
details of their daily lives. At that point, I will resume my
career, some career, though I wonder what will be available
given the choices I've made. I realize I could be very disappointed.
But I believe that disappointment would be far less
than discovering, only too late, that I missed the best years
|
