Last week, I had lunch with my friend Sarah at the playground, a setting that will soon become scarce for us. Her youngest child is set to start kindergarten this fall, and she finds herself in the midst of job interviews. “I’m feeling so anxious,” she confessed.
“I can imagine,” I replied, my hands starting to sweat in sympathy. “Interviews can be really intimidating.”
“No, it’s not just that,” she clarified. “I’m anxious about actually getting an offer. Until now, it’s been a whimsical thought—‘Oh, I’ll find a job down the line.’ But now they’re discussing salary details and travel obligations, and it’s all becoming very real.”
My stomach churned for her, and I discreetly wiped my sweaty palms on my pants, which were already marked with jelly stains. I, too, had been living in my own fantasy world of “I’ll go back to work someday.” The reality was setting in—she was stepping back into the professional realm and trading her comfortable loungewear for real pants. What would that mean for her?
Six years ago, I made the decision to leave my job and stay home with my first daughter, and the transition was jarring. My doctor referred to it as an “adjustment period,” handing me tissues and a prescription. I felt as though I had been transported to another universe—one where the stress came not from meeting deadlines but from the possibility of an accident going unnoticed until evening. I struggled initially, but after two more children, I finally settled into my routine. My knowledge of the corporate world has been replaced by story hours and a mental list of the best parks.
Over these years, I’ve mastered the art of moving slowly and eating quickly. My wardrobe consists of pants that also serve as sleepwear, and I often visit multiple grocery stores just to make one salad. People frequently inquire about my plans once all my children are in school. I used to joke that I would lounge around, collecting dust. In the early days, when my kids were little and I was grappling with my mental health, the thought of silence and stillness felt like a paradise.
Now, however, I can’t express that notion without feeling emotional, as it conjures images of me conversing with the toilet brush. At present, I’m pushing myself to progress at a measured pace; if I slow down any further, I risk losing my grip on reality. They say idle hands are the devil’s playground, and in my home, that demon enjoys puffer tacos while observing the neighbors. I don’t want to become that person.
In a year and a half, I’ll be donning my “big girl” pants and stepping out into the unknown, and it terrifies me. Emerging from my safe cocoon into the fast-paced world feels daunting.
“Does my brain even function anymore?” I ponder while discovering a mini Snickers wedged between the couch cushions, brushing it off and indulging myself. What if late nights become my norm? What if my kids fall ill? What about summer? The thought of multitasking sends shivers down my spine.
Even animals receive a transition period before being released back into the wild, where they are retrained in survival skills and faced with controlled scenarios to assess their reactions. Diving headfirst into a new environment without guidance feels like a recipe for disaster.
I glanced over at Sarah, taking a large bite of my salad. We both seemed overwhelmed by the prospect of returning to work.
Thinking back to my previous job, it feels like a distant memory. I struggle to recall what it was like to go more than ten minutes without asking someone if they need to use the restroom. I wonder if I’ll inadvertently blurt out such questions in a meeting.
Then I remembered the support system we had—someone brewed coffee, stocked the snack drawer, and another individual ensured the trash was taken out nightly.
“Hey, at least if you fall down the stairs, someone will call for help promptly,” I reassured her. She nodded in agreement. Maybe we need to focus on that silver lining right now.
This article originally appeared on May 19, 2016.
For more insights on navigating motherhood and planning for future family growth, consider checking out our other post on at-home insemination kits, which provides essential information for those exploring this option. You can also find valuable resources at the CDC regarding pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, transitioning from being a stay-at-home mom back to the workforce presents its own set of challenges and anxieties. As we contemplate the changes ahead, it is important to acknowledge both the fears and the support systems available to us.
Keyphrase: Transitioning from Stay-at-Home Mom to Work
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