At the emergency room, we slumped in our seats surrounded by people with broken limbs, and other sick kids. The wait was a minimum of seven hours. An hour went by and tears began to slide down my face. The stress of our life was too much. Everything was falling apart. We were not there for each other or our daughter. These types of things kept happening and derailing us. Our marriage was heading towards Divorce-ville. I quietly said to my husband, “I am quitting my job. We can’t go on like this. I’m quitting and that is that.” He nodded and quietly agreed. We both knew it was the only answer for us.
I worked for four more months while we constructed our game plan for the transition and I took side work as a writer. It buoyed my spirits that I could actually make money doing what I loved. Despite having made this decision we grew more stressed. I went to work each day feeling like a traitor stealing company secrets. The end seemed to be nowhere in sight. It seemed as if our goal was just always a bit beyond our reach. The day I handed in my notice, I felt I had finally hit the finish line tape at the end of a very long marathon.
Working at home a few months now we are settling into our routine. Some days are better than others. I divide my time between writing assignments, household tasks, and time with our daughter. The life of a work at home mother is a daily juggle just like anything else. It’s not all play dates and fun times. There are moments when I do long for conversations that are more adult. However, the freedom to create my own schedule, destiny, and that of our family far outweighs that longing. While working at home is not for everyone, it has made me appreciate my family more and be grateful for what we have. Not having to wake up at four thirty anymore is just an added bonus.
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