Seventeen Years of Being Needed, Then What

Nobody ever talks about how hard it is for a stay at home mom to go back to work after years of solving problems for her little people.

You do not just return to the workforce. You grieve an identity you did not realize you lost.

I did not want to give up my career. I worked hard for it. I earned it.

I never went to college. Not because I was not smart. Not because I was lazy. I was struggling with something I did not understand at the time. School was always hard for me. When I finally had enough credits to graduate, I was done.

Because I did not have a degree, I had to work harder to prove myself. I landed a position as a Life Claim Analyst at a major insurance company because someone believed in me enough to open a door.

The training was intense. Four to five weeks of nonstop learning, and I loved every minute of it. I did not realize until then how much I loved analyzing things. Looking back, that makes perfect sense.

In just four months, I went from analyst to Senior Life Claim Analyst. I was given one of the company’s largest accounts. I mentored other analysts. I even had a higher authority limit than my boss.

I was good at my job.

When I found out I was pregnant with my son, the last thing I wanted to do was walk away from my career. I knew that if I stopped working, I would have to start over someday. My husband kept encouraging me to stay home.

Then I held my son in my arms, and I knew. I was not going back.

I joke now because as the kids got older my husband would ask if I was thinking about going back to work yet. My answer was always the same. Nope, and YOU created me.

Here is the truth. There was no way I could have worked.

My kids, especially my oldest, needed me in ways I could not step away from. He was bright, capable, and trying so hard, but he was struggling every single day in a school system that did not recognize his dyslexia. He did not need me because he could not function. He needed me because nobody understood what he was up against.

Fast forward seventeen years.

My oldest was in his senior year of high school and receiving homebound tutoring after years of struggling in a system that did not understand how he learned. My middle son was in high school and getting by. I was advocating and paying close attention, knowing that getting by is not the same as being okay. My daughter had just tested out of her IEP.

For the first time in years, I had space. So I took advocacy courses, without fully knowing what I was building or who I was becoming.

When I was offered my first potential client, I was terrified. It felt like I had forgotten how to talk to adults. I had spent seventeen years solving problems for my children. Yes, I had fought hard battles with our school district, and I was successful. But carrying someone else’s fear, someone else’s fight, was overwhelming.

I struggled.

It took me almost two years to truly find my footing as an advocate. Two years to see my value. Two years to recognize how much experience I actually had.

Because no one prepares you for this part.

The part where your child does not need you in the same way anymore.
The part where your full time job disappears.
The part where you are expected to re enter the world like nothing changed.

So the next time you know a mom who is trying to go back to work after years of being the steady ground for a child who was struggling and unsupported, cut her some slack.

She is not starting over. She is rebuilding herself. And that is some of the hardest work there is.