Before I had kids, I never really thought about whether I’d be a stay-at-home mom. In fact, I pretty much didn’t think about what would come after the baby would arrive. I had baby fever, and I just wanted a baby. I had a pretty successful career. I was traveling a lot for work and really loved my job. Then I got pregnant, and nothing changed. I even took a business trip to Qatar while six months pregnant. I naïvely thought nothing would change.

But it did. Big time.

My son arrived, and I simply couldn’t fathom the possibility of leaving for weeks at a time, which is something I had done on a monthly basis prior to his arrival.

Life changed. My priorities changed. I had a new perspective on what was important. Fast forward four years, and you’ll find me as a stay-at-home mother of two. Whhhaaaaatttt?

I’m pretty sure none of my friends or co-workers saw this coming. I certainly didn’t. Staying at home has been a strange aligning of the stars. My heart tells me that what I’m doing on a daily basis is deeply important and that I’m privileged and lucky to experience every minute with my two kids. My husband doesn’t get to see all the meaningful moments in the day. The beauty and magic of two small people growing up, with me at their side.

There is another angle, though. It pushes and pulls at me. I miss the meetings, the going to work every day, getting dressed up, having my own purpose — something for me. I worry I’ll lose that drive, or I’ll forget how to be good at my job, or, worse, that an employer won’t even want me after I’ve taken a “pause” in the career game.

I worry I’m on Pinterest too much. That I follow too many mom influencers on Instagram. That my interests aren’t varied enough. Will my future co-workers really want to hear about why pooping on the potty is possibly one of the best things ever?

In order to maintain my sanity, I try to remind myself to take a step back and be confident. That I’m doing the right thing.

But sometimes it doesn’t feel right. Sometimes it feels like I’m a traitor to my children for even entertaining a life beyond them. It was OK to hate my real job before kids, but to bemoan moments in my life as a stay-at-home mom? Unthinkable.

I tell myself, “You’re doing the hardest job there is.” I have never been pushed to my limit more in ANY other job. So, safe in this knowledge, I push the doubts away of what a return to work would look like. I’m doing the hardest job there is, which means I can handle pretty much anything.