I can’t believe I’ve made up my mind. After months of going back and forth with the hubs we’ve finally decided. It’s strange – I feel like I’m in an anonymous support group just saying it out loud…
I’m moving with my hubs so he can being medical school. I’m quitting my job so he can pursue a dream. I am stopping my career so he can have his. I am giving up what I’ve been working eight years for.
It’s so anticlimactic, yet so liberating. I’ve worked so many years and established myself as a professional. I’ve put up with all of the ditzy blonde comments and assumptions, worked my little blonde booty off for it to all come to a screeching halt.
It’s two-fold honestly. When I had our baby, Lola, I begged the hubs to not go back to work. I wanted to be at home with her and raise her, as my mom was able to do for me and my siblings. “I don’t want someone else to raise my baby,” I would tell the hubs. After being constantly reassured that she was in amazing hands during the day and the more I applied myself at work, I was able to be a better mother when I was with her. It’s been an extremely rewarding process for me as an empowered female. I feel accomplished and in control. Until today. When we made our decision. For me to. Q. U. I. T.
The other side of that two-folded monogrammed napkin is that here I am – being given the opportunity to spend every day with my baby. I can now be the hands on mom that I begged my husband to be one year ago. I want both things – I want to work and have the amazing career I’ve worked so hard for, but I also want to be a hands on mom.
This feels like the hardest decision that the hubs and I have ever made – both separately and together in life. Literally the largest decision, as well as the most terrifying. Drop everything and pursue this new career.
I can’t help but think that this must be how the disciples felt when Jesus constantly asked them to drop everything and come, follow him. How terrifying. I have prayed, pray and prayed some more. I need to let go and understand that if I’m truly asking for his guidance, I better darn well be prepared for what he tell me to do, even if it wasn’t part of the plan – because why was I asking in the first place?
It’s kind of like that story that I heard from someone at some point in life:
There was a old man in a dingy floating in the ocean (imagine that kid on the boat with the tiger in Life of Pi, yeah it’s that situation). He keeps praying for God to save him, over and over. A sailboat comes along and asks if he needs rescuing, he replies “no, my God will save me.” An hour later a cruise ship comes by and throws in a raft and the man yells at the captain, “I don’t need you, my God will save me.” Finally the coast guard comes and drops all of those amazing marines in the water and he says, “No, no my God will save me.” Later that day, the old man gets to the gorgeous gates and he’s standing in front of the Big Guy and he says, “hey God, why didn’t you save me today? I prayed and prayed and I put all my faith in you, but now I’m here. You didn’t help me at all when I needed you.” God looked at him, smiled and oh so majestically said, “I sent you 3 boats.”
Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen the 3 boats. I feel like God’s been giving me my signs and whether I want to misinterpret or misconstrue them is up to me, however this time I’m listening. I’m packing up my Tory Burch flip flops and following him.
XO – the WCW