Reflections of a Working Mom

One year ago I went back to work for the first time after 4 months of maternity leave. I remember it like yesterday: sitting snugly in my favorite swivel chair by the fire, holding my newborn, asking Ben to take a picture of me in my “soft office” before my highly-anticipated (and highly-anxiety-producing) return.

It wasn’t that I didn’t WANT to perform again – I just knew that I loved being a mom so much, how could there be time for anything else? It took me weeks to muster up the courage to go to the grocery store, much less haul my harp to a 3 hour performance! For years (decades actually) I’d put my career first, above all. There was not much else…to the extent that I started worrying I might never have a family. But now, as a Mom, it wasn’t so much a question of “would I be able to perform again”, but “would I enjoy it”, “when does the mom guilt kick in”, and “does this mean my career is over”?? (That one for another blog post…)

So I packed up my harp bag for the first time since September, now adding a few additional items - my pump, cooler, ice packs, a towel, pump wipes, snacks - all while sporting my new very elastic, nursing-friendly wardrobe. Also my 110-page John Williams score, gliss picks, and new skin…(preventative care!) My husband kindly offers to pack up and load the harp for me, in addition to packing up his cello. God, I love him.

Weirdly, the first rehearsal was at night (not our usual 9:30 am rehearsal) at a different venue downtown, making it more of a “soft launch” back to work.. Despite my instrument’s conspicuous nature, I managed to keep a relatively low profile – sneaking in through the back entrance with a few warm but brief greetings from colleagues and the surprising feeling that I actually hadn’t been gone long at all.

Just like riding a bike, I pedaled through the movements, gradually becoming transfixed once again by the phenomenon of transforming notes on the page into the living, breathing organism that is an orchestra (despite struggling somewhat to understand the conductor’s beat pattern because once again they refuse to give us a click track for erratic movie soundtracks, WHY GOD WHY???)

But just as my quills started to bristle, I took a step back and reminded myself: this doesn’t have to be everything. This can be exactly as it is. I am not defined by my work or the music on my stand. I am so much more.” And before long, I’m back surfing through the sonorities of the complex, brilliant, and sometimes chaotic symphony of sounds. In the solace of my section of one, I remember how every performance simulates the experience of walking up to a mirror and staring your inner dialogue smack in the face. In the heat of the moment, there lies the opportunity to pause and ask: how do I want to engage with her (a.k.a. me) today? Where do I want to focus my energy right now? What reality am I creating in this moment?

And just as my existential psychobabble came to a peak, the rehearsal was over and we returned home to our sweet neighbor with Ernie asleep in his crib. In the aftermath, I felt a mix of relief, excitement, and a tinge of sadness (as pictured here with a glass of wine in the bathroom). Deep down, I knew I’d never get that time back with my baby – that chapter is over, and I’d taken an irreversible step onto the breast of the new fallen snow (…ho ho ho?)

On the flip side, I discovered that every opportunity to be (home) with my little one was a chance to EMBODY that feeling of maternity leave. The endless wonder, awe, and intimacy of becoming a parent – they never have to go away, even when these feelings are matched with equal bouts of frustration, angst, and doubt.

But the ultimate icing on the cake, one year later? Being able to “bring my son to work” with me, every time we share our music – whether at home, in a concert hall, under the church narthex, or at our local library — as though to say: “this is for you, too, my son!”

To any new parents, maybe-one-day parents out there, or friends of parents – returning to work is different for everyone – you may love it, or hate it, or switch jobs, or want to stop working entirely. And now is not the time to judge yourself because for first time in your life, you’ll realize it’s okay (maybe even GREAT) to make a change in your life because you have a miniature MIRACLE at home - and life is just a whole lot bigger than you ever imagined.

Becoming a parent DOES change you, but it doesn’t change who you are. When you are engaging in a world that you love, it doesn’t have to be one or the other – it gets to be BOTH! Your gift is always yours to give — you just have even more to hold. <3

P.S. here’s a photo of Ernie who stayed up until we returned home from our first show that weekend. So cute, we could never be mad at this little face!