It's amazing how much purpose your career can give your life. I’ve suppressed my wish to stay at home with my children, keeping it secret and all the while enjoying my career as a writer and public relations professional. I know my story isn’t unique: the guilty working mother syndrome vs. the sheer joy of getting up every day with new ideas and an appreciation for having the privilege to get paid doing what you love to do. Now my wish has been granted, but not in the way of my choosing.  In July, I became a casualty of the recession and was served notice that my contract for the upcoming year was not going to be renewed.  When the organization I worked for began notifying its employees in December that the current economic recession MAY require lay-offs, I began a job search confident that my connections, contacts, foresight and determination would carry me over the virtual hump.  That now veritable hump packs a bumpy ride as I was not able to negotiate my way through the cruel bumper car ride called “hold onto your job” before the boom was lowered.  I sincerely miss the social aspect of going into work, brainstorming with colleagues, strategizing and creating, and evaluating the outcomes. There are days when I’d rather curl up into a fetal position and stay under the covers all day. But there’s no use crying over spilled milk. Who would clean it up? Besides, with only one paycheck, who can afford to spill any milk?

Just the other day, my husband, in all of his manly wisdom and pragmatism, asked me if I had considered doing something else besides communications. I resisted the urge to shout, “How dare you not give me the benefit of time to land on my feet?” and “Have you considered getting a second job?” Instead, I calmly answered, “Of course.” Eventually, I may have to abandon the idea of working in my field given that we have three children, two of whom are college students. But for now, I will stay the course. I’m home for our youngest, who has enjoyed the afternoon snacks and chats about funny anecdotal events of the day and help from mom with the multiple pages of fifth grade math homework his teacher assigns. I get up every morning as if I were going to work, prepare a quick breakfast and make his lunch, and get to work on my to-do list, which keeps me busy until my youngest arrives in the afternoon a little worn but content to see his mom. It’s been a challenging lesson, but I’ve learned that there’s just as much purpose in putting one foot in front of the other as there is in punching an office time clock.