How it All Began...

On July 4, 2012, after a particularly grueling day at work, I decided to quit my job. I returned home and found my husband and 18-month-old son playing in the backyard. I sat with my husband and made my proclamation: 

“I am leaving my job.” 

“Mmmhmmm ...”

He had heard that one before. 

My job was not an easy one, although the benefits had always outweighed the challenges. I was the clinical supervisor of a crisis unit for adults in varying degrees of mental health crisis. I managed crises daily and supervised interns. My job was fulfilling, but since the birth of my son, something had changed. 

I remember when I told my supervisor I was pregnant. She was concerned about my replacement. What?  I’m not leaving, I thought. I had not considered being a stay-at-home mom. How could a family possibly live on one income? I am married to a school teacher who was working in an inner-city high school during my pregnancy. We certainly weren’t raking it in and at that time fear replaced any dreams of what life could be with me at home. 

Then, my son was born and I soon had to drop him off at daycare; he was 12 weeks old.  I cried daily, sometimes multiple times a day.  I heard that it would get easier. It never did. 

A few days after my initial proclamation, I decided to revisit the topic with my husband.  I was serious about leaving and the discussions began. He was transitioning to a new school district which fortunately afforded him an increased salary. We looked at our savings and debt. We crunched numbers, developed budgets and crunched numbers again. For two blissful months we were a family earning $100,000 a year. We paid off our credit card debt and the medical bills from my son’s birth.

Then, the day finally came. I was leaving my job.

There were tears. I had worked there eight years and had developed strong and meaningful relationships. I was leaving a place where I was comfortable and a job that I was good at. I heard many sweet and kind words that last week.

Before my last day, I had felt anxious and feared telling some people.  This is 2012. Women are expected to be able to juggle career and family. Would I be met with disgust? Would they question why I could not juggle it all? Would I be seen as a failure? The answer was no.

I was told that it may be a struggle, that sacrifices would need to be made, and, most importantly, that I would not regret my decision.  I was amazed at how many women told me that they had worked part time when their children were young, or that they wish they could.

While it helped to hear this, it didn’t make the transition easy.

I was not the type of woman (and I am still not) who finds it easy to rely on anyone for financial support. I have been fiercely independent for many years, holding one or multiple jobs since I was 14.  But, soon after my 36^th birthday, I would be unemployed, relying on my husband for all of my financial support.

On Friday, November 2, I finished my last day. The career I had worked hard for, and dedicated many years to, was now on the back burner. A new chapter in my life began. 

That weekend, I found myself in a hardware store, chasing after my son. I was familiar with being in a crisis situation, but none like this. I was being outrun by a 23-month-old. As I ran, with coffee in hand, I began my decision tree. Throw my coffee and purse, and sprint? Throw just one or the other? Try to sprint with hot coffee in my hand? Scream?

I found myself in a fit of giggles, begging for help from my husband and the store clerks.  Finally my son was trapped between them. I stopped, took a breath and a sip of coffee. 

This is what I’ve gotten myself into? 

The adjustment has been wonderful and challenging. Life is certainly different now. We have new routines. My son reminds me to get my coffee before we go to the family room to start our day. There are days that I think one more episode of “Barney” will send me over the edge.

But then my son says something beautiful, as children often do, and I smile and am reminded why I made this decision. I am having the moments that I had paid other women to experience. 

My husband and I are learning how to live on half of our previous income. It is challenging and I find myself comparing it to quitting smoking. I remember the first time I drove in a snowstorm without smoking. Recently, my husband and I drove through multiple towns without stopping at a café for coffee. It was the same feeling. It’s scary and hard, but also rewarding. We know that each dollar we save goes towards something more important. It pays for time, time I can spend with my son.