Meaningful Work as a Mother

A few months ago, a new acquaintance asked me one evening, "did you work today?"

Now, it was an innocent question. But I'm sure I visibly bristled because the fact of the matter is that Noah was in the throes of the "twos," was newly potty training, our house was under construction, and I was emotionally and physically exhausted. But did I clock in or get paid or answer to anyone besides a toddler? No. So I said, "no, I mostly just work on the weekend," and left it at that.

Yet... I felt immediately defensive because I knew I worked that day, and I knew it was work that a lot of women would love to do, but can't for a plethora of reasons. I also knew it was the least appealing work in the world to other women; and to yet others, it didn't qualify as "work" at all.

So when the speakers at our women's conference breakout session last month defined work as "any purposeful activity involving mental, emotional, and/or physical energy, compensated or not," my heart cried YES.

What I got from the discussion was really refreshing, too: What is your calling? Anything the Father calls you to do! This means it doesn't have to look the same for all of us.

I often attempt to define who I am through what I do, and often when I put my "stuff" out there, I'm trying to get feedback about who I am. I want to know that I'm seen, and that what I do matters. Maybe it doesn't sound so bad, but at its core, that behavior means my work is my identity. And when I make my work, any work, my identity, I make sacrifices to protect it. Then I'm devastated when others don't validate it because it means they don't validate me. It's enough to make anyone defensive. This is probably where I spent the first 18 months of my job as a mom: piling on the disclaimers and feeling like I needed to pre-emptively defend myself for my choice to stay home Monday through Friday and work one shift a week on nights or weekends.

Here's the deal: before you're a mom, you're generally convinced that motherhood is either the best or worst thing that will ever happen to you. When it does happen to you, younger or older, planned or not, biological or adoptive, it's going to rock your world. From there, the path of motherhood diverges in as many different directions as there are mothers.

Unless you stay at home with a child for 40 hours a week, you can't understand the unique loneliness that can come with it.

Unless you are a mom and a full-time employee and/or full-time student all at the same time, you can't understand the mass chaos that comes with the dual roles and responsibilities and childcare.

Unless you're a single parent, or a solo parent with a spouse who travels often or works long hours, you can't understand the weight that carries.

So why do we assign value and judgement to someone else's life and roles? Why can't we let them do what they're called to do, and do what works for us without shame?  Instead of assigning value to whose life is "harder" or whose role is "more important," we need to remember that we are all living in the reality that life doesn't quite turn out exactly how we expect it to. Why can't we unite under the umbrella of the fact that it's all so very much harder than we thought it would be?

The awesome thing is, we can. We CAN work out of blessing, and not for it. Genesis 1:27-28 tell us God made us in his image to be creators, relational, and rulers. It goes on to tell us that he blesses us and THEN gives us a job to do: to be fruitful and multiply. As women, this line has caused a lot of grief because our fruitfulness is often expressed in physical childbearing. The good new is, fruitfulness is NOT limited to that, because we are creative beings, not just "creators" in the very strict sense of the word.

When sin and death entered the world, our own work got painful in every way. But this means we don't have to find the "perfect job" or "ideal situation." Because we live in a fallen world, we can expect to be regularly frustrated in our work, even when we're right where we should be!

This was so validating for me to hear. So needed. If I'm not striving for perfection, I can find peace where I'm at. Loving my work (even in the midst of the difficulty) is to image the Father. I can value people over accomplishments, titles, incomes, or traditional roles. When looking at my unique struggles, I can ask, how does this mundane thing image the Father and lead me to Him? I can ask other moms the same question, even though their mundane thing may be so totally different from mine.

All of us could stand to ask ourselves, "Do I really believe God cares about my daily work, whatever that may be?" Acts 17:28 says that in God we live, and move, and have our being. This means that he isn't just directing our lives, but that he's actively involved in us, transforming us in the midst of our daily challenges. He's using us to get work done, but he's also using work to get US done!

There are so many tensions as a result of choices and circumstances in our lives. Can we link arms and be united in Christ? Can we find peace where we are and not assume that everyone is out to judge us?

What if, when we saw someone drowning, we reached out a hand and said, "you're not alone?"

What if, when you're in over your head, you could see that hand, not as a holier-than-thou gesture, but as an offer of friendship and goodwill?

What if, when we are drowning, we said, "it's so hard," and reached out for help instead of running ourselves into the ground in the name of pride?

If I'm believing God, what does that change about who I am and what I do? Instead of more time or more money or more sleep or more discipline or more childcare, what I need is more kindness, more patience, more Jesus.

Viewing our Work in Light of the Biblical Narrative

A month ago, I went to a women's conference about trusting God. The speaker, Nancy Guthrie, was amazing and I'm still processing a lot of what she said. But one of the breakout sessions has been heavy on my mind and heart since I went.

For starters, it was called Meaningful Work. There was no discussion of stay-at-home mom versus working mom, or the ever-elusive "balance" or anything like that. The talk was actually based on Every Good Endeavor by Tim Killer and viewing our work in light of the Biblical narrative.

The Biblical Narrative has four parts:

1. The Ought: God's design for work in Genesis. God is a worker, and we are designed in his image. He planted the Garden, and created man to work the ground and to have dominion over creation.

2. The Is: The reality of life due to the Fall-- work is immediately hard. Pain enters the world, the ground is cursed, humans will have to work to make a living.

3. The Can: Living in between the cross and Revelation, where we see what can be redeemed even though it isn't yet.

4. The Will: All will be revealed when Jesus comes back. If you're a city planner, there will be a New Jerusalem. If you're a lawyer, take peace in knowing that justice will reign at last. If you're a mom, know that one day God will wipe all the tears from our eyes.

----

We obviously live in the frustration of the Can. I'm daily faced with the cultural narrative of work. I've struggled with it immensely, as evidenced by the fact that I've changed jobs a bajillion times. The cultural narrative is this: What do I do? Who am I? How valuable am I? Who is God? When I ask, "Whose kingdom am I building?" The answer is, "Mine."

God's narrative in the Can, tells us: Who God is. How God relates to me. Who I am. What I do. When I ask, "Whose kingdom am I building?" The answer is, "God's."

It changes everything to realize that my life isn't my story, but a small piece of God's big story.

Another New Job

I got a new job. Again? Right. I'm now a lactation nurse (training to be a Lactation Consultant) at the same hospital I've been working at since January. So let's call it a department transfer instead of a new job, because that sounds less jarring. Although in fact, it has been the least jarring of all the new job transitions I've had in the last two years: Birth Center, NICU at a Missouri hospital, new mom, NICU at a Kansas Hospital, and now this.

This new job requires a bunch of work upfront: 70 CEUs in addition to the Breastfeeding Educator Certificate I earned in 2012, another job orientation, an international board exam, and the costs that come with all of the above. But the payoff will be huge. Working toward being a Lactation Consultant (a nursing specialty at my hospital) is a really good fit for me right now. No more night shift, no more getting cancelled due to low census, no more going 24 hours without seeing Noah. A more predictable schedule with slightly shorter shifts is a God-send. I love the NICU and always will, but working there PRN was not the right fit for me. I missed the relationships with the parents that you can only form when you're the primary nurse there day in and day out. I hated being the random nurse they'd never seen before. I didn't like feeling uncomfortable around sicker babies, since I wasn't taking care of them as often.

Transferring to the lactation department was a no-brainer. I mean, I'm a nursing mom. This IS what I do for a living. Why not get paid to help other moms do the same?

Which Camp are You In?

There has been a lot written on Mommy Wars. I haven't spent a lot of time or energy delving into the subject because honestly, being a mom has flat-out humbled me. I was a really good mom before I became a mom, right?

My doula was on the local NPR station recently discussing vaccines. (A doula who is PRO-vaccine? Right up my alley!) She has a background in microbiology but her current career is spent helping women navigate a healthy pregnancy and delivery, often in the most low-intervention way possible.

When discussing vaccines, she mentioned in passing that some "anti-vaxxers" haven't actually investigated the subject, but feel pressure (internally or externally) to conform to a mode of parenting, and declining vaccination is a way to fit into the "natural childbirth/attachment parenting" camp.

And then I realized why I struggle to discuss parenting choices with people. They always seem to say something that doesn't sit right with me (and vice versa, I'm sure). Note: these things are not usually something I passionately disagree with, but something that I know in my gut isn't a good choice for my family.

Yes to natural childbirth, and yes to childhood vaccinations.

Yes to the chiropractor, and yes to Prilosec for baby's reflux.

No to bed-sharing, and no to cry-it-out methods.

Yes to breastfeeding, and yes to introducing solids at 6 months.

Yes to cloth diapers, and yes to disposable wipes.

Yes I work 12+ hours a week, and yes I stay home with my baby Monday through Friday.

I'm absolutely not having a pity party. I know there are other moms like me out there. If anything, having a foot in both "worlds" helps me empathize with both sides. But it also confuses me. So much information. So many opinions. So much more to motherhood than I thought.

A Weary World Rejoices

Advent has begun again, and it has wonderfully, beautifully, coincided with a brief period of rest in my soul. Rest that has been much-desired, but ever-elusive for the past year.

The first 3-4 months after Noah was born, I was in constant physical pain, exacerbated by the constant anxiety I had about my baby. About everything in general, but sleep in particular. It seemed like my days revolved around hour-long feeding sessions and a brief period of "play," after which I would spend 45+ minutes getting him to sleep, only to get a 25 minute nap out of him. Seriously, for the month of November, you could set a clock by those catnaps. It was just long enough to go to the bathroom, change into real clothes (sometimes) and eat a meal. I was so discouraged. In so much pain. I felt like the worst mom ever. I was so drawn to the need to seek God in His Word, but too tired to do so.

We've also had this background of financial strain that was causing me to blame myself for not continuing to earn a full-time income. For the past 2 years, we've intentionally lived on Ross' salary plus about 20% of my income, in preparation for this very season. We paid off our debts. We bought a reasonable house. (Well, reasonable mortgage-wise. Don't get me started on renovations again.) We thought we were prepared since we've lived on this income for a while, but suddenly it's different. It's different knowing we can't draw from the savings account here and there. And we just did not anticipate hefty out-of-network physical therapy bills. Circumcisions. Hearing aids. I mean, we anticipated some of those things, but we didn't realize that we'd end up paying so much more than just our insurance deductible.

I just physically couldn't find it in me to work more night shifts when I'm already getting so little sleep, so I looked around and found an opportunity to take an 8-week day shift travel nursing assignment in an Omaha NICU. Perfect, right?! It would've been 8 really exhausting weeks, working full-time in Omaha and still fulfilling my PRN obligations here. But I would've had free childcare there, and I would've made in 8 weeks what it will currently take me 8 months to earn as a PRN nurse. It would've been a huge financial blessing. But after thinking and praying (and spending a night in Omaha where I was up EVERY HOUR with Noah) I said no. And WOW. We've been so blessed by that NO. The first good career decision I've made in a really long time!

Because after a few weeks of some sort of developmental and physical growth spurt, this week has been a breath of fresh air. KNOCK ON WOOD we are back to just one nighttime feeding around 3am (instead of 10pm and 1am and 4am and 5:30am...). And-- drumroll please-- we have a NAPPER** at long last! Seriously. 6 months in the making.

I'm more aware than ever of the cyclical nature of having a baby. Weeks of crazy growth and weeks of rest. I'm learning that maybe God's calling me into the same rhythm. Instead of just surviving those crazy weeks, I want to be able to dig in. Be present.

I've written myself a note above Noah's changing table: You chose to be here, so BE HERE. When those crazy weeks circle around again, I want to be ready. And that means while this kid is taking two naps a day, before he outgrows the swing, you better believe I'm resting when he's resting. I'm actually doing daily devotionals. I'm reading for fun. Sometimes I'm even napping! I'm still doing small chores, and when Ross comes home I catch up on laundry and make dinner and whatnot, but seriously. When Noah is resting, I'm going to rest, and I don't even feel bad about it. It's so, so needed. I had no idea having just one child would be this hard, so I'm stocking up. Stocking up, so that when it's time to dig in again, I won't feel so depleted. Because I love this baby with my whole heart. And I want to be present to cherish his baby-hood while it lasts!

Oh holy night!
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Christ was born
Oh night divine
Oh night divine

**The last few weeks, instead of eat/play/sleep, we've settled into an eat/play/eat/sleep routine. We also started putting him in a swing for naps (to lull him back to sleep when he wakes up at the 25 minute mark). He's fallen into a fairly predictable 1+ hour morning nap around 8 or 9am, and an afternoon nap that still varies considerably. I don't know if the schedule change helped, or if the swing helped, or if he finally just reached a developmental ability to nap, but I cannot even express how WONDERFUL baby naps are! Poor guy was so overtired. And so was I!

Back to Work

Thirteen weeks off of work is a complete luxury. So luxurious that it balances out the ludicrous stress of 100% unpaid "maternity leave." BUT I'd do it again in a heartbeat, and I feel really good about the part-time hours I'm working for now. SO thankful to have flexibility in my career.

That being said, 13 weeks felt never-ending when it started. I don't really sleep for more than 3 hours at a time yet, so it certainly hasn't felt like a vacation, but my return to work flat-out SNUCK UP on me. Rude. It actually came a little sooner than anticipated. My manager texted me at the end of August saying, "by the way, one of your certifications expired and you need to renew it before you can work again." Oops. So Noah and I went to a 5-hour STABLE class the first Tuesday of September. It was actually a nice way to ease back in.

Then, Saturday night came. My parents were in town and helped Ross out a lot over the weekend! But I still didn't take a nap beforehand because this kid doesn't do naps in general. Also, I was super anxious. Then 4pm came and I was EXHAUSTED and so SAD and I just started sobbing. Poor Ross. "Me going back to work means Noah is OLD! It's going too FAST! I can't stay awake ALL NIGHT! I'm so TIRED!" Seriously. Every one of those feelings was legit and heart-wrenching.

But I got dressed. ("Last time I wore scrubs I was in LABOR!")  (Although these particular pants hadn't fit me since the first trimester. Yay!)

Thawed milk for Noah to eat overnight. ("He was so little back in July!")

Packed my extra bags so I could pump.

And said goodbye to my favorite tired baby.

The whole drive to work, though, I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. I was fully clothed, I had my badge, my lunch, my water bottle, my pumping stuff, and my purse. Oh but wait. I don't have my BABY. He's only been coming to work with me for the past year!

I missed his post-coffee dance parties. I missed rubbing my belly out of habit as I walked down the hall. It was weird. But it went okay. I think eventually I was too tired to be sad. By the time I got home and went to bed, I'd been up for something like 30 hours and of course, the last full night of sleep I got was 3.5 months ago, so there's that. But we did it. I got lots of sweet, sweet grins from our bald baby when I got home, and Ross survived a night of solo parenting.

Can't ask for more than that!

Never Enough

(I wrote this a few weeks ago, and was too afraid to post it. Things are getting better, but these thoughts are still a legitimate part of this pregnancy and I want to remember it.)

Wondering why there's complete radio silence lately between my weekly pregnancy updates? I was prepared for the physical discomforts of pregnancy, but I'm having an immensely hard time dealing with the hormonal outbursts, irrational thinking, and anxiety, and I feel like I finally need to talk about it a little bit.

First of all, I'm sad that I'm sad, because I wanted pregnancy to be so blissful. Don't get me wrong, I love the weekly changes I notice taking place, and it's so completely surreal to be on this side of the exam table for once, but I'm grappling with a loss of expectations and I feel like it's something no one really talks about during pregnancy. For me, a lot of my anxiety and remorse centers around-- what else? Work. The axis around which it feels my life has revolved this past year. I miss the simple days of having one job. I had no idea how good I had it!

[The meat of this post may be a bit of a pity party. Please proceed with caution. And allow me to say that I know things could be SO SO much worse. This is simply a reality that I'm having a hard time with right now.]

My first 5 years as a nurse, I hoarded my PTO for an ever-elusive maternity leave. This time last year, dissatisfaction and a lingering feeling of restlessness drove me to leave my full-time day shift position for a Monday-Friday job in a high-risk OB clinic. By June, I was finally ready to admit that the clinic was a terrible fit for me. Of course, by then my day shift position was long-since filled and the NICU census was down, meaning they weren't hiring at all. So I left the clinic without a backup plan.

I searched for 2+ months, managed to find two jobs to cobble together an income, and got pregnant. On the one hand, I'm so grateful. Unemployment was much rougher than I had anticipated, and I'm very thankful that it only lasted two months. I do enjoy my current jobs and the variety that they provide, but it's hard to juggle two very different schedules. And so I still find myself where I started this whole mess: with a lingering sense of dissatisfaction. Without all the side perks of a job with benefits. It's a harsh reminder that the problem really lies within, not without, right? It's been an expensive lesson to learn.

When this baby comes, I'm looking at 8-12 weeks without a paycheck. No PTO to receive base pay for a month or two, no FMLA to receive partial pay for a few weeks after that, no free delivery at the hospital I worked at... It's entitled and bratty, I know. But truly, it's just not the picture-perfect scenario I imagined and planned on having in place for our first child. (Six years of neonatology and perinatology experience reminds me that there are an infinite number of things worse than no PTO for maternity leave. I do know that. But again, this is simply what I'm struggling with at the moment.)

I'm SO VERY GRATEFUL to have a baby on the way, and I'm so completely lucky that Ross has a stable job with benefits. We're blessed in many, many ways and we know we're able to live on one income if we have to... we've been doing that for roughly half of our marriage in one capacity or another. But to be honest? It's a really hard pill for me to swallow that I'm barely contributing now, and I'm going to be contributing even less in another 20 weeks. I'm used to being the provider. I'm used to having the backup plan and the job security and the good insurance. It's really humbling to know that I'm working my butt off on nights and weekends and home visits and I bring in less money than ever. Tax season has been a lovely reminder of that. It's really true when they say, "don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone?" All those hours of unused vacation, all that planning... gone.

I know it's selfish, but this has been surprisingly hard for me to deal with. A large part of my emotional response to all of this is probably due to this time of the year, which is always rough for me. Pregnancy hormones and massive life changes on the way are definitely not helping. Then getting all 4 of my W-2s in the mail this month was a slap in the face. 2013 was an expensive lesson in what does and doesn't truly satisfy, and my tendency toward remorse and regret and anxiety has never been stronger.

You know what? A job will never satisfy or fulfill me. How many times have I said that and then turned back toward the work and tried to make it a tidier picture of what I want it to look like?

On a good day, I can still see that nothing is an accident. God has so precisely ordained every one of these circumstances. Even if my decisions were selfish or downright sinful, he is using them to show me more of His goodness and provision. But some days? I miss my old job so much I can practically taste it. I get bitter when I hear old co-workers complaining about the very job I was complaining about 12 short months ago-- they don't realize how lucky they are. Day shift! Insurance! PTO! I'm realizing I have a bit of a self-pity complex, and my problems always have to be bigger than everyone else's. That's not right and it's something big that I need to work though. (Then again I also tend to make reckless decisions that cause bigger problems with ever-rippling repurcussions! I need to work on that too.)

I don't know. This is all ugly, but I feel like I need to get it off my chest. Get it onto this page and turn to a new one. I desperately need God to break into my dark heart today and get past my stubbornness to once again remind me of his grace and truth. My mom and several sweet friends have been reminding me of this, but it's hard to hear through the tears. Some days, I feel like my bad decisions are bigger than God's provision and God's love, and that's just not true.

This sermon has been sitting with me all week and it couldn't have been timed better. (It really got pertinent for me starting at 20 minutes in, if you want to listen to it-- which you should!) There are so many truths in it that I needed to hear: Sometimes Jesus' delayed response isn't a contradiction of, but rather an expression of his love. I can't measure God's love by the absence of frustration and pain in my life. These are truths that I know deep down, but my pride has gotten in the way of my belief lately. I need these to wash over me again and sink in even deeper. Because a paycheck will NEVER be enough. The dream job will NEVER satisfy. And paid 'maternity leave'? Well... that's still a sore subject for now.

Winds of Change

Sometimes I just have to laugh at the absurdity of the past year in regards to my job. I mean, really. It's been one long, stressful journey in the painful lesson on, the grass isn't always greener. Don't get me wrong, I am really happy with where my job situation is right now, but I'm still learning that really, the grass is greener where you water it.

Was it really just a year ago that I was teaching clinicals, helping in nursing skills lab, taking graduate classes, and working full time in the NICU? And I was so hard on myself! No wonder I was burnt out and ready for a change! From this distance, I heap grace upon grace upon that poor ragged girl.

This time last year I took a job at a clinic thinking it'd be a nice change of pace. That was a good lesson in learning that expectations are simply premeditated disappointments, as Ross' mentor Frank likes to say. It's a long story and one that includes as many external disappointments as internal ones, but I resigned in June. Has it really only been 4 months since my last week there? It. feels. like. a. lifetime. I learned so much there from an academic standpoint, and I'm so grateful for the opportunity, but I'm also thankful I've moved on.

I'm currently cobbling together a living with two different jobs: I'm a NICU nurse part-time and a home visit/postpartum/newborn nurse part-time. I'm loving the variety and honestly, I also like that I'm not fully vested in any one place right now. It helps me stay emotionally disconnected from my work, which God knows I need. In the past year I let the line between work and life become far too blurry and my life affected my work and my work affected my life and it was all a mess. I like being able to be a nurse. I love that! And I love going home and being Therese.

The downside, of course, is that I'm not accruing seniority or PTO or retirement benefits anywhere, which is unnerving. I'm constantly having to surrender control in that regard. God has me where he wants me right now and I'm so grateful that I listened and took the risk.

Which I guess brings me to the actual point of what I came here to talk about today. At my last clinic job, I became a person I really really disliked. I let my circumstances bring out the absolute worst in me. Cranky, self-righteous, selfish, demanding, entitled... the list goes on and on. The worst part about it is that I lost my filter and said more things out loud than I probably ever should have!

To my co-workers, I probably just looked like every other burnt-out nurse. But to me, I was appalled. My heart really is that dark. I would think, "This isn't me! I don't recognize this person!" But really, it was me at my truest and weakest and most human, I think. I'd been tired and worn and exasperated, but never that. Never bitchy. Never rude. Never so thoughtless. That's what I regret most about that job: the way I handled it. I blew it.

I'm so grateful for the cleansing wind that blew into my tired heart this summer. I've been able to watch with fascination, almost from the sidelines, as God begins to heal my heart. I'm learning to accept grace from God and from myself. The whirlwind of the last 3 years had finally ceased blowing and I got to stand there and watch the dust settle. As the air cleared, I started to catch glimpses of what God was revealing on the horizon. And it was good. All of his gifts are. This summer has been so beautiful, and filled with more second chances than I deserve.

Lest you think that this is where the story ends, yesterday I was reminded that the learning process is just that... a process. The more I grow, the more I see that in a sense, we never 'arrive' in this life. There's no point at which life is suddenly easy and every single thing makes sense. That's not to say there aren't seasons of rest and growth and happiness and sorrow and peace and angst, because there are! But they're always evolving. And I'm okay with that. In fact, I think I like that. I don't actually want to stay the same as I am today.

Yesterday at work I was flustered and busy and a little overwhelmed with new tasks fresh out of orientation, and what I had previously thought of as old-job-Therese popped up out of nowhere in an unnecessary snarky comment. Granted, not many people heard, and the people who did, didn't think much of it. It was a crazy busy day for everyone. But the heaps of shame that flooded my heart shocked me. I thought that kind of response was directly related to my old job. I thought I left that behind. But I did not.

Last night before bed, I read exactly what I needed to hear in Morning and Evening by Charles Spurgeon:

If you need to hear that, look up John 16:7-15, too. The Holy Spirit takes Jesus' inheritance and declares it ours as well! And like Spurgeon says, "your Father does not give you promises and then leave you to draw them up from the Word like buckets from a well. The promises He has written in the Word He will write afresh on your heart." I love that. Good news, indeed!

On Rest, or Lack Thereof

A quote I think of often comes from Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love. She's talking about Americans when she says, "Of course, we all inevitably work too hard, then we get burned out and have to spend the whole weekend in our pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box and staring at the TV in a mild coma (which is the opposite of working, yes, but not exactly the same thing as pleasure)."

I keep thinking, the opposite of working, yes, but not exactly the same thing as rest.

A while back, I remember panicking any time I thought about the fact that I was a full-on grown-up. I kept thinking that life was going to drone on and on and I was going to be overworked and unhappy and not have more than a week off at a time for the rest of my days on earth. That thought restricted my breathing, gave me tunnel vision, and caused heart palpitations as a cloud of doom would settle over me and throw me into a long chain of all-or-nothing, black-and-white internal dialogue.

(Welcome to the life of an overly-analytic introvert who trends toward anxiety and the need for control... and run-on sentences. My husband is a lucky man.)

Now I'm at the tail end* of eight weeks off of work. Eight weeks! Longer than I ever foresaw being off work. And under the circumstances, it was about 4 weeks longer than I'd hoped. It was restful, kind of. Not as I restful as I hoped it would be. Not as restful as other people hoped it would be.

I can see it in the eyes of the same friends who encouraged me to take a break in the first place when they ask, "Are you rested now?" All I hear is, "You're so lucky you caught a break. You'd better be grateful. Rest, gosh darn it!" And as usual, the perceived pressure to be or feel a certain way has had the opposite effect. Kind of like when people tell you to Enjoy. This. Time. (Be it high school, college, being married with no kids, having little ones at home, etc etc. We're always looking toward the next thing anyway.)  

You'll never get this chance again. You're gonna miss this. Carpe diem. You're only as happy as you make up your mind to be. Cue panic attack. Those kinds of thoughts are threatening to me. I just can't grasp timelessness this side of heaven.

I know that my loved ones have had their hearts in the right place. All they saw this winter was a haggard girl who cried all the time and carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. So they rightly, stubbornly encouraged me, Let go. Lay it down.

They said, I'm so excited to see what God does with this time!

I thought, Me too. God owes me.



*CRINGE*



And when the dream job with the dream salary didn't fall into my lap when I held my hands up in surrender? When our drastically smaller bank account ran dry? The sand drained to the bottom of the hourglass and there stood my idol, brazenly exposed: myself.

My self-perception, my self-worth, my priorities, me, me, me.

So this is me saying, Huh. I didn't handle this time well at all. Which can really be said of most things that have happened in the last 12 months. I put my hope in a new job. And it was awful. So I put my hope into working harder, and it failed me. Then I put my hope in rest and restoration. But I expected it to find me, and I didn't seek it with my whole heart. By now, I'm bored out of my ever-loving mind and catch myself thinking if I had just the right job to keep me busy and interested but not overwhelmed and overworked, well, that would just be great.

I wish I could snap some sense into myself sometimes.

But don't we all need to be reminded of this? As Thomas Watson says, "'Til sin be bitter, Christ will not be sweet!" When I find myself just plain bitter, sweet is the relief I find in the arms of Christ, who is willing to shoulder my burdens and give me rest.

Taste and see that the Lord is good;

blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Fear the Lord, you his holy people,

for those who fear him lack nothing.

The lions may brow weak and hungry,

but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

Come, my children, listen to me:

I will teach you the fear of the Lord.

Whoever of you loves life

and desires to see many good good days,

keep your tongue from evil

and your lips from telling lies.

Turn from evil and do good;

seek peace and pursue it.

{Psalm 34:8-14}

Yes, my soul, find rest in God'

my hope comes from him [...]

Trust in him at all times, you people;

pour out your hearts to him,

for God is our refuge.

{Psalm 62: 5-8}

*I start a new job tomorrow! Back in the NICU! At a new-to-me hospital way the heck across town. I'm so scared but also so excited to be back with the babies.

Resigned

Welp. I resigned from my job* 4 weeks ago. My last day was June 14. No, I don't have another job lined up yet. This is my first week home and it's been... odd.

Why is this so embarrassing to talk about?

I grew up in a very performance-oriented household. This served me very well growing up, because my inclination has historically been to quit when things get hard (AP Calculus, I'm looking at you).

I'm so grateful that my parents encouraged me to persevere through, for example, nursing school, despite my existential crises and numerous threats to change majors. In that instance, perseverance was a very good thing. But there's perseverance, and then there's stupidity (if you keep doing the same thing over and over again, you'll keep getting the same results, right?).

In the past few years, I've taken perseverance to the extreme: piling things on my plate and brute-forcing my way through them because I can. Until... I can't.

Like the country song says, you have to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em. If you're anything like me, folding seems to be synonymous with failure. Like you didn't try hard enough. But sometimes, that's just not the case.

I'm excited and very anxious about where this path will lead. In the meantime, if you live nearby and want to hang out, let me know. My calendar is wide open!





*Disclaimer: This is NOT meant to be a reflection on my recent employer. It's very much the product of the progression of the last 2 years in my personal life. I am very at peace with my decision and I know it's the right choice at this time. Still, I'm sad that this job wasn't a better fit. I have had the honor of working with a truly esteemed staff of professionals. I would without a doubt go to this clinic as a patient because they provide such great care. I loved being part of a small but hard-working team. But at the end of the day, it wasn't the right place for me.