Our Mommyhood

By Krista, Guest Writer, Not Mommy of the Year, (@notmommyofyear)

I always knew I would be a working mother.  It wasn’t rocket science after looking at our checkbook and it wasn’t really a hard decision to make.  I grew up with a mother who worked but who attended every one of my sporting events and piano recitals, picked me up for practice and drove me to the bus stop every day.  For me?  Working is part of being a mom.  My salary is needed to pay the bills that keep the Pampers on my daughter’s butt, the food on her table and give her a house with a yard that she can run in.  (You know, when she learns to walk.) So, I’m lucky that I don’t feel the guilt for going to the office that many mothers struggle with.

(In the interest of full disclosure, on days like Friday when she was cranky, I was sort of glad to be handing her over to my mother-in-law. ::GASP:: I know, I’m going to Mommy Hell for admitting that.)

And it just so happens that I like my job.  In fact, when I was getting ready for maternity leave, I sort of regretted that I would be off for six weeks during our annual planning season.  I was nervous about missing the opportunities to develop plans, budgets and work on presentations. I thought for sure that I would come back and they would say, “Oh, you?  You’re back? We hardly missed you.”

I swore that I would never let motherhood affect my attention at work, my desire to go to meetings or my ability to work nights and weekends.  I promised myself that I wouldn’t use “I have to be home for bath time or bedtime” as an excuse.  I would never give my boss or coworkers a chance to think, “Well, before she had the baby, this would have been better.”

Once the baby was about three weeks old, I started answering emails (stupid Blackberry), then I started going in for the occasional planning meeting and jumping on conference calls from home.  I cut my maternity leave short by a few days to prepare for a presentation that was taking place on my second day back.  I can’t stress enough that I did all of this because. I. wanted. to.  Nobody at work made me feel like I had to, but I was determined to keep motherhood and my career separate.

I cried the first few days back.  In the car, I would listen to songs like “Butterfly Kisses” and “Let them be Little” and the tears would brim in my eyes, flow down my face and mess up my makeup.  People would say things like, “she’ll be fine” and then “she’ll miss you”.  And I would hate that even more.  On one of my first days back, my husband texted me to say that he was showing C pictures of me.  I went to the bathroom and sobbed.

So, to say the transition was harder than I expected is an understatement.  I didn’t want her to miss me.  I didn’t want her to know that I was leaving her.  I knew she was fine, well cared for by her grandmother. But I missed her and didn’t believe that anyone could care for her the way that I did.

I did a pretty good job of pasting on a smile, answering all the questions right.  “… yes, I’m back… little girl… she’s amazing…  she looks like her daddy…  sleeps pretty good, can’t complain….no, it feels good to be back, a girl can only watch so much daytime TV.”

Now, seven months after my maternity leave has ended, “working mom” is not just a phrase for me. I’m lucky to have a child that sleeps at night, a mother-in-law who lives next door and babysits and a husband who grocery shops and OK’d hiring a cleaning service.  If there are reasons that “it works” for us, those are it.

But also, my attitude toward work has changed. Thinking it wouldn’t was clearly the thought of woman who hadn’t yet had a child. I have said no to meetings that would put me home after bedtime, I’ve cried when I learned that I would have to be out of town overnight and I’ve given status reports that have said “no, I’m sorry.  That’s not done yet.”

I’ve learned to prioritize and not take on assignments that I can’t handle.  I’ve become fiercely protective of my time and what’s on my plate.  I don’t waste time and I work through lunch so that I don’t feel guilty about not working later.  But, I’ve also learned that I could work all weekend, have an annoyed husband, feel guilty about neglecting my child and still never be caught up. So it’s not worth it.  I will do what I can, when I can and that’s still pretty damn good.

I try not to play the “baby” card very often.  Because frankly whether they are going home to a baby, a wife, a dog or a bottle of Jack, my coworkers all have personal lives too.  And my baby doesn’t trump their personal lives, but she does trump my to-do list at work.

And somehow, someway, even though there are days I would swear that I’m drowning, I’m making it work.

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