Last week, I met up with my friend, Sarah, for lunch at the playground. Our relaxed playdates are dwindling; her youngest child is starting kindergarten this fall, and she is currently in the midst of several job interviews. “I’m feeling so anxious,” she confessed.
“I can only imagine,” I replied, feeling a sympathetic sweat prickling my palms. “Interviewing can be incredibly stressful.”
“No,” she clarified, “I’m nervous about actually getting an offer. Then it becomes real. Until now, it was just a fun notion—‘Oh, I’ll find a job again someday.’ But now they’re discussing salary and travel, and it’s freaking me out.”
My stomach twisted for her, and I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, next to the remnants of jelly. I, too, had been residing in my own “Someday I’ll get back to work” fantasy land. I blinked hard; the reality was setting in. She was truly preparing to return to the workforce. She would have to don real pants. What would this mean for her?
Six years prior, I made the decision to leave my job to care for my eldest daughter, and the transition was jarring. My doctor referred to it as an “adjustment period,” handing me a Kleenex and writing me a prescription. I had landed on a different planet—one where stress didn’t stem from tight deadlines but from the knowledge that I could fall down the stairs and no one would notice until evening. Even then, my husband might not come looking for me until he felt hungry.
Initially, I struggled, but with the addition of two more children, I settled into my routine. Gradually, my grasp on the corporate world was replaced with story hour schedules and a mental list of local parks. Over the years, I’ve learned to walk slowly and eat quickly. I no longer purchase pants unless they can double as pajamas, and I visit three different grocery stores just to create a single salad.
People often inquire about my plans once my kids are all in school. I used to joke about lounging around and gathering dust all day—enjoying the fruits of my labor. In the early days, when my children were infants and I was struggling with my mental health, that idea seemed idyllic. But now, I can’t voice those thoughts without feeling emotional, conjuring images of me conversing with the toilet brush. Currently, I’m pushing myself forward as slowly as my sanity permits; if I slow down any further, I’ll slip into oblivion. They say idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and in my home, the devil prefers snacks while observing the neighbors. I refuse to become that person.
In a year and a half, I’ll be putting on my big-girl pants and stepping out into the workforce. And it’s terrifying. Emerging from my safe cocoon into the vast unknown feels like stepping onto the proverbial fast track.
“Does my brain even still function?” I ponder, finding a mini Snickers bar wedged between the couch cushions, dusting it off and popping it in my mouth. What if late nights become the norm? What if my kids fall ill? What about summer? What if I have to, gasp, juggle multiple tasks?
Even animals receive a transition period before being reintroduced to the wild, retraining their survival instincts and facing simulated challenges in a controlled setting to gauge their reactions. Jumping into a completely foreign environment without guidance can lead to dire consequences.
I glanced across the picnic table at Sarah and took a hefty bite of my salad. We’re doomed.
I reflected on my previous job—it feels like a lifetime ago. I struggle to remember what it was like to go more than ten minutes without asking someone if they need to use the restroom. I wonder if I even have the capacity to hold a conversation without blurting out that question in a meeting.
Then I recalled the coffee maker and the person who kept the snack drawer stocked, as well as the individual who took out the trash and cleaned the restrooms nightly.
“Hey, at least if you fall down the stairs, someone will call for help immediately,” I remarked.
She nodded. Maybe that’s the focus we need to keep in mind for now.
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In summary, transitioning back into the workforce after years of being a stay-at-home parent can provoke feelings of anxiety and uncertainty. Many mothers, like Sarah and myself, grapple with the challenges of reentering a fast-paced environment after dedicating years to child-rearing. As we prepare to face this new chapter, we remind ourselves of the support systems available and the importance of a gradual adjustment.
Keyphrase: “stay-at-home mom returning to work”
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