I wrote a few months back about the moment I cracked, the raw conversation with my husband where I said out loud that I wanted to resign from my job. That piece was raw and honest because I needed it to be. Today is the update to that story. It turns out both things can be true at once: I can be unspeakably grateful for the seven months I had at home with my baby and also feel a hard tug in my chest as I lace up my shoes and go back.
So why go back now? Because the right door opened. A door I wasn’t sure would crack for me again. The economy feels wobbly, the job market feels strange, and this wasn’t the exact timeline my husband and I originally envisioned. The role in front of me lines up with the experience and education I’ve spent over a decade building. For me, that matters. I’ve always believed in doing work that nudges healthcare toward a better, safer, kinder, more connected system. Our system is still broken in too many places, but I’m not done pushing on it.
Looking back on the past seven months, I feel fortunate. I got to be there for the long, slow afternoons of baby snuggles on the couch; the naps I decided not to put him down in the crib. I got to see what people do in the middle of the day and what it’s like shopping at the grocery store with the retirees. Most importantly, I got to focus my time on what my kids needed, not my job.
And yet, going back also feels right. Not easy, but right for right now. There’s a difference. I’m choosing the right that comes with complicated trade-offs: full-time daycare costs that make my bank account cry, a pickup line that starts while my 3 p.m. meeting is still in progress, a calendar peppered with the teacher meetings that somehow always land on the morning I need to be in an important meeting. There’s the corporate layer, too, more meetings, more acronyms, more “circling back.” I won’t pretend that part doesn’t add stress.
But here’s what I’m holding onto as I go back into the workforce:
1) My “why” can carry weight.
In that earlier piece where I cracked, I gave myself permission to say I was tired and scared. That honesty didn’t disqualify me from leadership; it made me more human. This step back into my career is grounded in purpose: using my training to make a dent where it matters—safer meds, better access, fewer barriers, more dignity for patients and families. That “why” is worth suiting up for.
2) I don’t owe anyone perfection; I owe my people presence.
The dinners won’t always be Pinterest-quality. The calendar won’t be color-coded and still chaotic. But I can be deeply present for the parts that matter most: morning snuggles, the after-school brain dump, bedtime rituals that take forever because nobody wants to talk about their day until the lights are off.
3) Logistics is a love language.
We have to build a return-to-work runbook: who’s on which drop-off, a grocery shopping plan that also considers swimming lessons, a shared family calendar with alarms that yell at us kindly, and potentially saying no to things we want to say yes to. It’s not glamorous; it’s sanity.
4) Boundaries aren’t selfish; they’re structure.
For me, that means naming a few non-negotiables. I’ve picked up a few new hobbies in the past couple of years, and just because I’m going back to work doesn’t mean I will give up my “me time.” I will be finished with grad school soon, and I look forward to being able to read and go to book club again.
5) Community is the secret ingredient.
The thing that got me through “I cracked” was other moms saying “same.” So here I am saying it again: same. If you’re moving back into paid work, changing roles, or opting out entirely, you’re not alone. The versions of us who choose differently in different seasons can still sit together.
On the money piece, because it’s real, I’m naming it. Full-time daycare is expensive. There’s no ribbon to tie on that sentence. We’ve tightened in other places, accepted help where it’s offered, and reminded ourselves this is a season. If you’re navigating this too, you’re not failing; you’re budgeting. There’s a difference. Going back to work still brings in more money than daycare expenses take out. I’m also thinking about the long-term benefit for our family. We need two incomes to continue meeting our retirement goals and maintain the lifestyle we currently have.
If you read my “I cracked” piece, thank you for sitting with me in that vulnerable hallway between rooms. Today, I’m walking through a new door. I’m carrying the softness I found at home and the steel I’ve always had at work. I’m carrying a diaper bag, a laptop, and snacks that may or may not be crushed into confetti at the bottom of my purse. I’m carrying a summer’s worth of memories and the hope that meaningful work can bend systems toward better.
And if you’re here too—packing the daycare bag, double-checking the calendar, swallowing worry with your coffee—take my hand. We’ll figure it out together.
