by Grace Brentley

Created on: June 25, 2008

When my son was born, I honestly had no idea if I would stay home or return to work. I took maternity leave from my job, figuring that eight weeks would be long enough to make a sound decision. In the early stages of my pregnancy, my husband and I battled (sometimes bitterly) over the issue. He was concerned that his salary alone would not be enough to support the three of us. I reasoned that losing my laughable compensation as a bank teller would not thrust us into bankruptcy. I went so far as to making up an itemized list of the costs associated with daycare and transportation versus my salary and work-related expenses.

Somewhere in the last trimester, something clicked with my husband. He told me that he realized his decision was all about money, when it should be at least partially based on love. His own mother repeatedly told us the harrowing story of my then two-year old husband crying for his sitter when his mother got an unexpected day off from work. My parents worked full time jobs my entire life; my siblings and I spent the majority of our childhoods in day care. Neither my husband nor I wanted someone else to experience the growth and development of our son. The thought of him rolling from back to tummy or taking his first steps without one of us there was heartbreaking. We eventually decided that I would be a stay-at-home mommy.

After my son was born, I began wavering on my decision. Looking back now, I believe my hormones were out of control and I was overwhelmed by the awesome responsibility I was undertaking. It is a scary, scary thing to be completely in charge of a tiny, defenseless human being. Two weeks before I was due back at work, I visited my boss. I had typed up a letter of resignation, but was unsure of my decision, even in the parking lot. I sat in my car, heart pounding and palms sweating. Was I ready to leave behind my sense of independence and financial freedom? A wave of clarity suddenly hit me and I knew that, without a doubt, I wanted to be home with my son.

That was fifteen months ago, and I have not once regretted my decision. Watching my son grow, develop, and change everyday has fulfilled me. I love watching him dance and laugh. I love taking goofy pictures of ourselves with the digital camera. I love our morning walks around the neighborhood. I love when he curls up on my lap as I read him a story. I love watching his face light up when he sees Dada every afternoon. Not to say that it is all easy. I have been slapped in the face, pooped on, and disobeyed more times than I can count. I have been exhausted to the point of falling asleep at the dinner table. There are days that I am frazzled and days when he frustrates me, but I wouldn't change it for anything. I realize how fortunate I am to be with him every day when so many mothers are not and desperately wish they were. I know that being a stay-at-home mother was the right decision for my family, my son, and my marriage and I will always cherish the memories we are creating.

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