There are things I always knew: that I wanted children and that I’d be a good mother.
That no other work could be more meaningful than raising happy, well-adjusted children.
Which is to say, I knew absolutely nothing at all.
I was a lawyer in New York City when I became pregnant.
I hoisted myself out of my chair to close my office door.
The salary was equally enticing, and the job, she made clear, was mine for the taking.
As we parted, she said she needed my response by the end of the week.
Rarely does one get so clear a glimpse of the road not taken.
I’d always been efficient; now it seemed I could get nothing done.
Then, around my daughter’s first birthday, I started having the Fantasy.
It took place in an unspecified office where I held some sexy, high-powered job.
I had it so often, I began to worry: Was I unhappy in my marriage?
Was I at risk of having an affair?
Whenever things really got going, the screen faded to black.
I hadn’t been having a sex fantasy that happened to take place in an office.
I’d been having an office fantasy that happened to involve sex.
I was mopping the kitchen floor when I heard the mail come through the slot.
There, on top of the stack, was my law school alumni magazine.
The theme of the issue was Sweet Jobs, the most desirable positions at well-known American companies.
When I finished, I sat numbly for several minutes until something compelled me to movemaybe the baby crying.
That moment, I can safely say now, was my rock bottom.
Emotionally, though, it was another story.
For a long time, I’d been moody and depressed.
I felt empty most of the time.
Maybe the only surprising thing about my story is my belief that childrearing would fully satisfy me.
Yet many, like me, refuse to take on the crushing time commitment of their previous jobs.
“I couldn’t help letting it play out, as if addicted to a trashy soap opera.”
Most women, I know, don’t have that choice.
I loved being intimately familiar with the minutiae of my children’s days.
My kids' focus has begun to turn outward, to school, friends, sports and clubs.
Mommy is no longer the center of anyone’s universe.
Writing had always been one thing about law I enjoyed, but I couldn’t imagine doing it creatively.
Yet the thought of that invitation continued niggling, and eventually I gave in.
In reality, I was simply scared.
What if it turned out I had nothing to say?
There are no conference rooms and no colleagues, sexy or otherwise.
It’s just me at the kitchen table.
I’m reconnecting with the woman who relishes the chance to contribute in the wider world.
As it turns out, I’ve really missed having her around.
Photo Credit: Thayer Allyson Gowdy
