Much to my surprise, I became a stay-at-home mom, despite the fact that it was in direct conflict with the way I was brought up, my value system, and how I anticipated I would lead my life. This happened a decade ago in San Francisco shortly after I discovered I was pregnant. The dot-com bubble had just burst, and I was laid off from my job at a high-tech company. My then-husband urged me to reconsider my options and not go back to work.
I was insulted and angered by his suggestion. I didn’t want to shut the door on my career. I had an Ivy League education and a fairly impressive résumé. My own mother — one of only eight women in her class at Harvard Medical School — was my role model. Women, smart women, had careers as well as having kids. Overachiever that she was, my mother had had six. I assumed I would just continue the family tradition.
I was even more upset when he suggested we relocate to Santa Barbara. I didn’t want to start motherhood without my cadre of friends, in a new city, no family. Santa Barbara was L.A. as far as I was concerned, and I hated L.A. Who was I going to hang out with — kale-eating Southern California bimbos? It was one of our only big disagreements. But I remembered the tension in my parents’ marriage, as my mom stretched herself between husband, kids, and a demanding career. For me, well, I would try and be open and give the Happy Homemaker path a try.