From the Boardroom to the Nursery

I have been working in radio for the past two years. I love it, every single thing about it. This was my dream job, the one I prayed every single night for. So why did I quit? To become a stay at home mother.

I got married in August of 2005 and five months later, surprise, I was pregnant. This was not a planned event, but my husband and I couldn't have been happier. We were planning on starting a family, just not at such a rapid pace.

During my pregnancy I worked my butt off. I was going to prove myself. I didn't need special treatment, this pregnancy wasn't going to stop me from my goal of being the top account executive at the station, I could do it all.

I worked harder then I had ever worked before, and went to bed earlier then ever before. My feet were swelling, I had non-stop nausea, and I was an emotional basket case. I held it together, after all I was going to have this baby then bounce back into being the hardcore career women that I had always been.

I worked right on up until two days prior to my due date. I had everything in order, the women who was going to cover my accounts was prepped and instructed to call me anytime she needed a hand. I would be back, and would be back with vengeance.

My daughter decided to enter the world via c-section a week late. I cringed each and every day she was late, I could be working I would think to myself. I tried to relax, tried to calm down, but I wanted to call my clients, work on presentations, I wanted to be at work.

Then came baby. I was instantly in love and vowed right then and there that I would never leave her. I felt like I had stepped into a Lifetime movie of the week, all sappy, and emotional. Then it dawned on me - postpartum, I was just postpartum. This overwhelming love and desire to stay with my daughter would pass, I could go back to my old self, and the lifetime family movie of the week mush that I was feeling would disappear.

I went back to work exactly six weeks after she was born. I actually showed up at the office to do a presentation for one of my clients three weeks after I gave birth, but we don't have to count that. I was so happy to be back, and so grateful for my leap into the adult world. I was communicating to adults, talking about grown-up things, and not analyzing the color of my daughters poop.

I got back in the swing of things and my sales numbers were better then ever. I was consistently making 115% of my monthly goal, bringing in new clients to the station left and right, and all the while devoting time and effort to my daughter. I was breastfeeding her, so I was happily pumping milk for her during the day while typing out emails to clients. I was superwoman.

We all know that superwoman was really just Linda Carter in a glorified bathing suit, and soon, trying to do it all started to wear on me. I was tired, my weekends were now devoted to sleeping in, then taking four hour naps. My time with my daughter consisted of picking her up from daycare, spending an hour with her then putting her to bed. I couldn't get the laundry done, and as for any hobbies or a life outside of work and baby, forget about it.

Things really came to a head when I picked her up from daycare and they commented on how good she was at rolling over. I had never scene her roll over, since when did my daughter know how to roll over, and why was I, her mother the last to know? That sealed the deal. I was done. I couldn't do it. I wasn't superwoman, and I was done trying.

My whole life I never thought I would be that happy homemaker who stays at home, and raises her child with a smile. Well in two weeks, I will be just that, and I couldn't be happier, well, except for the fact that I should probably learn how to cook, but that is a whole other story.