A Gift for Mom! 🤍

“What do you do?” This is a question that is inevitably asked when you first meet someone. I’ll never forget the first time it was asked of me after I quit my job and left my career to stay home with my kids.

I was at an engagement party for my husband’s good friend and we were seated at a table where I didn’t know anyone. The woman sitting next to me was younger, unmarried, and didn’t have children. She asked me, very conversationally, where I worked—and I froze. I felt completely lost about how to respond because for almost 20 years, I’d been employed in some way.

“I don’t have a job right now,” I stammered.

To which she replied, “Wow. That sounds awesome. I wish I didn’t have to work.”  

It all felt so far from the truth that I felt confused about how to continue. I hadn’t stopped working by choice. And I didn’t feel like my days were spent living the life of leisure she was picturing. But I didn’t want to explain my days were spent carting children around, caring for a baby full time, and  keeping my household running smoothly. So, I changed the subject and chatted about other things but I left that evening feeling lost.

I used to define myself with my career, so when I left it, I left a piece of my identity. How do you establish a new identity when your new “job” is raising your own children?

I’ve been working since I was 14. My first job was as a cashier in a local bakery. I used to ride my bike to work and spend my day taking cake orders and selling cookies. It was mostly just a way to pass Saturday mornings and I loved having a little spending money. The bakery eventually closed and I moved on, waitressing in restaurants while I was young, then working in public relations and marketing before finally ending up as a flight attendant. 

When I was hired with the airlines, my job defined me. I was there for almost 12 years and knew the ins and outs of the industry. I had a huge work family I grew to love and, at first, I was able to balance my schedule with anything that came my way. I worked holidays, weekends, and nights, especially in the beginning. 

But my personal life—which included getting married, moving to the suburbs, and having three children—made things even more hectic. There was a point at which my job stopped making sense. I wasn’t making enough money to justify childcare, and being gone for multiple days was too disruptive to our family unit. So, after over a decade in the skies and 20 years in the workforce, I stopped working. There I was . . . officially a stay-at-home mom.

I had trouble embracing this new role.

First, the inevitable “What do you do?” question made me uncomfortable. How did I explain that staying at home was a full-time job in and of itself when so many women were able to balance home with work? At first, I answered the question by saying, “I used to be . . .”  but as time went on, I realized that was no longer how I wanted to steer a conversation. I didn’t want to talk about the past as if the present wasn’t the most important thing to me.

And then, of course, there was the necessity to find fulfillment with something that most days doesn’t even garner a thank you. When I was working, I interacted with 500+ people a day some days; now, I sometimes only talk to four: my husband and three people under the age of seven. We used to have employee appreciation days and quarterly bonuses. Now. there really isn’t a tangible “Job well done, congratulations!” No one throws you a party when you do well in motherhood. It’s just expected, even when it takes a tremendous amount of work.

After a brief period of mourning my old self, I threw myself into my new one.

I became a “yes” person. I said yes to everything I had to say no to before while I was traveling all the time. While I was working, I barely had time to keep my own life straight let alone remember everything going on with my neighbors. Now, I had a little more time so I joined things I couldn’t before. I picked up as much as I could which helped me feel appreciated.

I was present for my kids physically and emotionally. I always felt this was my number one goal, even while working; I just had the luxury of time now. I didn’t need as many carpools or babysitters because I could do it myself. I spent more time with my family physically, which I appreciate as they grow older and I realize how quickly their childhoods are flying by. This is a true gift even if I don’t feel it every day.

I still miss my career some days. But if someone asks me what I do now, I smile and tell them I’m a stay-at-home mom to three crazy kids. I feel lucky to be able to say that. I try to stay focused on the present because the past is behind me. 

No one has all the answers starting out on this path of motherhood, but we figure it out along the way. To the moms looking to make changes, small or large, embrace it. There’s only your family and what works for you. There’s no one size fits all answer to this question of working or staying home. One isn’t easier or better. But being happy where you are will make your journey a success.

You may also like:

It’s OK to Stay Home, Mama

Dear Stay-at-Home Moms, Your Work Doesn’t Go Unnoticed

This is Stay-at-Home Motherhood

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Caroline Murray

Caroline is a freelance writer, mama to two young children and one sweet baby.  She loves everything country and tries not to take anything too seriously.  You can see more of her at www.the-othermom.com.

The Invisible Pain after IVF Stops

In: Motherhood
Woman holding pregnancy test with head in hands

There is nothing “basic” about stopping IVF and returning to the so-called natural route. There is no guidebook for what comes next. The protocols and procedures that once dictated every step suddenly disappear. The appointments, alarms, and instructions are gone—but the emotions and unknowns remain. There is no protocol for going back to the basics. When we decided to stop IVF and try naturally, I wasn’t prepared for how difficult this next part of our journey would be. During IVF, everything had structure. There were calendars to follow, medications to take at exact times, appointments that filled the weeks. There...

Keep Reading

The Final Out

In: Motherhood
Baseball game as seen through the fence behind home plate

Tonight I watched him step up to the plate for the last time. Play-offs. Single elimination. Down by one. Last inning. Two outs. And the batting lineup just happened to fall to him. Nothing prepares you for that. He took a breath. The weight of an entire lifetime spent in red dirt hinging on this moment. He set his face like flint to that pitcher. The ball left the glove, and he swung. Strike one. He stepped away. Reset. Tapped the base. Then set himself once more. He swung, hit a line drive, and sprinted headlong towards the base, setting...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

The Pressure to Do Everything “Right” Is Crushing Us

In: Motherhood
Tired and stressed mother sits in hallway with toddler across from her, black and white image

I don’t remember when motherhood started to feel like a test I didn’t study for—but somehow, I’m always convinced I’m failing it. It’s in the quiet moments. Standing in the grocery store aisle, overthinking every label—organic, non-GMO, dye-free, free-range, grass-fed—like I’m one bad decision away from ruining their future…while also trying not to take out a second mortgage just to afford my ever-rising grocery bill. Sitting on the couch, wondering if the show they’re watching or game they’re playing is rotting their brain. Lying in bed at night, replaying the way I handled a meltdown, picking apart every word I...

Keep Reading

Letting You Go Is Still So Hard

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Walkway toward water at sunset

Nothing really prepares you for the day your child leaves the house. Last September, my husband and I moved our 18-year-old son into his dorm room. Right after that, he was swept away into all things orientation, and we began our 1,000-mile journey back home. Leaving this beautiful human I raised and spent all those years with felt foreign. During our final hug goodbye, despite trying to hold in my pain, I broke out in huge, ugly, guttural tears. Our drive home was a long two days. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around. Returning to...

Keep Reading

Behind Every Smiling Graduate Is a Mother Letting Go

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mom and grown son smiling

Every year, millions of American families send their children off to their freshman year of college. Their pictures dot our social media feeds. Images of excited students holding collegiate pennants, maybe wearing a hat or holding up their school’s hand sign with beaming smiles. Their parents post excited words about futures and hopes and dreams. One chapter closing. Another opening. A new beginning. So why am I struggling so much? Why does this feel more like a loss than a gain? Why are my tears always on edge, threatening to spill over each time I think about August and what...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

As a Medical Mom, I Measure Growth Differently

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little girl climbing outside

In most homes, the marks on the wall are a simple celebration of time passing. They are pencil lines that track how many inches a child has gained since their last birthday. But in our home, those marks represent a much deeper, more complex story. When your child lives with multiple hormone deficiencies, growth is never just “natural”—it is a carefully managed medical achievement. However, as any medical mom knows, the story doesn’t end at the top of the head. It begins deep inside, with a tiny gland that isn’t sending the right signals. Having multiple hormone deficiencies is often...

Keep Reading

Hannah Harper Is Every Mom with Babies in Her Arms and a Dream In Her Heart

In: Living, Motherhood
Hannah Harper American Idol winner sings with her young son on her lap

By now, you’ve probably seen the posts flooding your feed: A young mom. Three little boys. A guitar strap embroidered with her children’s drawings. And a crown. When Hannah Harper won American Idol this week, moms everywhere erupted. And honestly? Same. There is something collective about watching a stay-at-home mom win on such a large stage. The celebrations have been pouring in. Moms, we can do it. She didn’t abandon her dreams. She went for it. And all of that is true, and all of that is worth celebrating. But I want to add something to the celebration. Not to...

Keep Reading

Watching Your Children Build the Life You Prayed For Is Beautiful

In: Grown Children, Motherhood
Mother dancing with son at wedding

“I love you, Mom.” “Hmmm?” (A little louder) “I love you.” “I love you too…so very much.” I’d been deep in thought, listening to the lyrics we were slowly dancing to. I knew this moment of ours was supposed to be the time to say all the things, but this boy and I had already said all the things, so the song the deejay played—written by Lori McKenna and sung by Tim McGraw—enchanted our ears: When the dreams you’re dreamin’ come to you When the work you put in is realized Let yourself feel the pride but Always stay humble...

Keep Reading