Changing Lanes

A new day beckons

Transitioning from a working life to motherhood was one of the biggest changes that turned my life on its head. On one hand, I was glad to be rid of seemingly mundane meetings where people talked way too much; the plastic smiles at enforced company socials; the deadlines that hung over my shoulder that went away only to be replaced by new deadlines; and the politics rife amongst career climbers. All that was replaced by endless nappy changes; the constant waking at various hours at night tending to a hungry baby; having a schedule that was largely determined by the needs of a tiny person who didn’t regard the sanctity of a restful night, and the constant feeling that there was more to life than sitting with other mothers and listening to their stories about how wonderful their little Bobby and Joni were. My former life started to look more enticing -- where the hours were defined and a life less hectic.

Since life is what we make of it, I shifted my priorities and as it turned out, I rationalized that mothering wasn’t that overwhelming after all. Once the sleep deprived nights vanished, the world seemed less daunting; and the appreciative gestures like the ear-to-ear smiles, bear hugs and misshapen drawings buoyed my world. Those were my domestic bonuses and I was entirely OK with that. But now that 3 of my kids are at school and Sophia attends pre-kindy twice a week, my head noodles are itching for a challenge.

Come Thursday, I will close ranks with many other Moms who have chosen to return to the politics of the corporate world while leaving their kids in the hands of other childcare providers. Instead of rejoicing, however, I feel apprehensive, anxious, and sad. Granted that I’m not unique as thousands of Mothers before me must have similarly felt their hearts mangle days before returning to work, and thousands after me will also feel the same guilt kissing their little-lies ‘goodbye’ before sprinting off to their jobs only returning to pick them up when the sleepy sun is over-shadowed by the darkening sky; but deep down, I have a nagging feeling that I might be short-changing my kids, particularly the younger two.

Many will assure me that my kids will adjust and that they will be just fine, if not better off as a result of not having Mom at their beck-and-call. There will be studies proving cases of how back-to-work Moms will positively impact their kids’ well-being. We are models to both our daughters and sons that women can also wear the pants in the family and help bring in the bacon; we aren’t just lounge-pants-food-stained-clothes-wearing women with panda eye-bags and silvery stretch-marks. We are women who can juggle a career, kids, home life and every odd ball thrown at us in various directions. We suck it up; we don’t cry about it; we believe that the world continues to hum regardless and even if our guilt gets the better of us, there is always the lavish birthday/ Christmas presents to make-up for it all, right? There is no place for a wimpy working Mother; the system doesn’t allow for it.

And that’s why it is so hard for me to feel wholeheartedly excited about my return to work even when this opportunity awaits to jumpstart my flattened career, mushy brains and ailing pocket. I’ve dreamt of this day but now that it has presented itself, my feet are stone cold numb. I’m a wimp. My worries are many but they are all derivatives of one thing -- that I’m denying my kids my time in vain pursuit of needing to do something for myself even if for just 3 months. And worse, will 9 years of letting my brains turn soggy rear its ugly head?

Fear is destructive and worrying isn’t helpful so I retreat to what I know best and that is evoking the help of a higher order at a time like this. I sure could use the prayers of many, and maybe several miracles for good measure.