As an ambitious 21 year old, I was driven by dreams of being the high-powered artistic director of my own theatre. I wanted to make inventive decisions and wear power suits. With a Bachelor’s degree and a couple of internships under my belt, I couldn’t fathom why I wouldn’t get there by 30.
I liked the work, yet it was not the life-fulfilling experience I’d imagined it would be. As I approached 30, I had to get honest with myself about who I truly was and what I valued. I wanted time to spend with my loved ones. I didn’t want to bring the office home with me. Yet, I still wanted to feel like my contribution to a team made a difference.
After moving to Australia at 32, I was a professional nomad, trying hard but never getting very far at freelancing in theatre and working part-time jobs. I left an interesting job when my daughter was born, but told everyone that I’d certainly be looking for work again in three months.
Ha! Three bleary months into motherhood, returning to work was the last thing on my hazy, sleep-deprived mind. When I was finally able to lift my head out of the sand, my husband and I started having conversations about whether or not I would return to work. What did I value about work? What kind of a budget could we live on? What was my dream scenario? We both saw the value of me staying home with our daughter, and with a few sacrifices, we could make it work financially, but I was not immediately convinced that stay-at-home motherhood was for me.
If I’m honest with myself, my biggest hang up was not about the work of being a stay at home mum, but about what I feared others would think of me. I’d worked hard for my education and in my work life. Would my friends and colleagues think I was giving up or settling? Moreover, would my daughter, who I hope will be bright and independent, grow up without a strong example of a woman who can ‘have it all’?