I felt the familiar pull. The downward spiral. The fall. The loss of control. The pieces of my life that remained in the wake of my breakdown.
Too much, too soon.
I wanted it all and I was tired of waiting so I forged ahead at a breakneck pace, shattering ceilings along the way.
I gave up my career as a teacher to stay home with our first daughter but picked up a part-time sales consulting job when she was just 6 months. I was successful and I felt driven, until it was more than our family could handle. I gave it up when my third daughter was 6 months.
Three years passed and I felt restless, eager to grab an opportunity to work as a consultant for a publisher of children’s books that I adored. I reassured myself and my husband that I could manage it all, but I failed to consider my innate drive to share my passion, gaining business and momentum along the way until it became more than we could manage.
That’s when I plummeted.
Feeling trapped. Unable to explore my professional potential. And guilty for feeling that my children were getting in the way.
Until I remembered that moment in our kitchen when we chose to try for our fourth baby.
I realized that in that choice, I was choosing her. I was choosing my family. That I’ve had control all along.
I just needed to see the big picture.
These days feel long but the years are short.
I didn’t give up my profession. I chose one: Mothering.
And how lucky I am to be able to make that choice.