I remember when I gave birth for the first time. My boy got very sick soon after he was born. By the time he had fully recovered, I found out I was pregnant with my second child. I had fully intended on going back to work a year after giving birth. Oh, well, I was young then, what’s another year? I thought. I would be making memories and investing in my kids. My career can wait.
Well, we moved from the city to the suburbs just in time for the birth of my second child. A year after that, I was ready to go back out there and work — I had two little ones to spend on and save up for, after all. I couldn’t let my husband do all the work — it wouldn’t be fair.
But then, the rehabilitation of the NLEX began and traffic snarls meant I would need three hours of travel time going to work and going back home on top of actual time for work.
That would mean that my kids would be growing up without me. They would imbibe the speech habits and ways of thinking of whoever spent the most time with them. That could be the TV or the yaya.
I wouldn’t be honest if I said that I readily chose my kids. I wouldn’t be honest, either, if I said that I didn’t cry about it; that I didn’t feel so short-changed by life; or that I wasn’t frustrated that other women could juggle work and family — and I couldn’t.
If I were truly honest, I would say that my journals were full of ranting and raving — mostly against myself. I couldn’t believe that I had painted myself into this corner of motherhood.
The feminist in me was mutinous — men don’t ever have to choose between family and work, so why did I? Men were never thought to be bad fathers if they stayed at work the whole day — why did I feel so bad about leaving my kids?
Was I that weak? Was I suffering from separation anxiety? What was I thinking? Did I think that my constant presence would make my kids love me more? Or that my constant presence will shape them into decent well-adjusted, secure and compassionate human beings?
It was nerve-wracking for me — none of the usual feminist things worked here in the Philippines. This was the one thing I had not prepared for — the fact that I would have to choose between being with my kids and going to work. I had always presumed that I would go on working and take care of the kids at the same time. I had not anticipated traffic, I had not anticipated moving to Bulacan. Life had thrown me a curve ball……
In the end, I chose to be realistic — choosing to work in the city would simply tax my health and my time — and my kids’ health, too. It will jeopardize my mental wellbeing and, it will rob me of my good humor.
In my head, even as I made the choice to stay with my kids and put work on hold, I was afraid that I would be physically present with my kids but I would be mentally in the courtroom — or wishing that I was. I’d be reading to them, but thinking that my legal training is going to waste! I did not want to stay there with my kids but resent them for having robbed me of a career.
At the start, I just lightened the work load. I still took a few cases on. But then, the kids and I would miss each other too much. They never asked to be born. I chose to have them. So, in fact, when I had them, I made a choice to take care of them. I cannot take care of them remotely through cellphone or through the internet (this was in 2000) and texting was a new technology.
For better or for worse, I was all they had by way of a babysitter and governess and mother — I don’t see a line of applicants outside the door. So, whether or not I was a competent parent was beside the point — I was the only mother they had and, although I was trained to be a lawyer, I had chosen to be a mother — now I had to actually do some mothering.
So, I decided to work from home. I ambled on and did the best I could with what I had in me. My career went up in smoke — I did not get to do what I had always thought I would do. I did not land on the news because I won a case. I was not invited to talk shows to be asked my legal opinion. I didn’t matter to the world. I did matter to one little boy and one little girl. I mattered to the man I married. Had I chosen to prioritize my career, well, I would have missed out on these three people who mattered the most to me. That would have been untenable. Did I make the right choice? I don’t know.
My kids are both in college now– they survived childhood. They finished grade school and high school. They know how to commute to and from the city. They are getting by and moving on in the world.
In a lot of ways, I am starting my life all over again. I’m trying out new career paths which I would never have taken had I not given up the old career path from before when my kids were born. Is this a better career? Probably not.
What have I learned from this? I learned who I was — I am a kind of person who would rather be an unknown and unremarked country lawyer who was there for my kids than to be a well-known lawyer.
I could have struggled harder and I could have insisted on having both my job and a fulfilling motherhood, but I didn’t want to be frayed and frazzled. I didn’t want to live all stressed out just so I can prove that I can do it. I was the kind of person who chose to live placidly.
I was the kind of person who picked which battles to fight — me fighting a battle on two fronts would mean I wouldn’t have time for the hubby. (I like the hubby — being with him was the reason I got married in the first place.) I was the kind of person who liked acually being beside the man I was with.
I learned that I wasn’t the kind of person who could have everything, so I learned to sort out what things were important –being with the hubby and kids was most important. Being relaxed and living with a minimum of stress while being with hubby and the kids was important, too. Suddenly, being the lawyer-in-the-grand-manner was just not as important as hubby and the kids — singlemindedly pursuing that meant only that I get bragging rights — I can live without bragging rights.
Because I opted out of my old job, it took me a lot longer to achieve some sort of financial viability (I’m not there yet). There are still days when I feel that I gave up way too much to raise my kids. But then, when we sit down to a meal and we are all there, seriously discussing some thing we heard on the news or laughing, joking and carrying on — I know this would not at all be possible without the singular investment of time in my children’s lives.
Then, when I look over across the table toward the hubby, I don’t see a stranger with whom I share house, board and certain routines — I see bits and parts of myself because somehow, the lines between our persons have blurred through these twenty-one odd years. He’s still my number one choice for companion on a stormy day or when the wifi, cable and phone signals go out. He’s still the person I want to be stuck in traffic with and the person I want to hold hands with when we’re waiting for medical test results. I don’t think this would be possible without that singular choice made long ago to have and to hold.
Then, I think, I was extremely lucky. I met someone who stayed put. The choice I made to stay put was made, in part, because I knew I would not be doing this mothering thing all on my own. I learned that I was extremely lucky.
Some people don’t have a choice — some women cannot choose to stay home to raise their children. Some women can choose to work and raise their kids– they are lucky, too. Some people have reliable people in their extended families with whom they can leave their kids while they go off to work. They are so lucky, too, in a very different way.
And then, some women are like me — I didn’t want to miss out while my kids were growing up. I didn’t want to always blame the traffic for when I missed some important milestone. I didn’t want to be drumming my fingers while in court, listening to a witness while thinking about my kids. I didn’t want to be arguing in court so my clients can keep their kids while I left mine at home in front of the TV while I played lawyer.
What is sad, is, when women have no choice but to juggle and balance work and home life, all circumstances conspire to prevent them from achieving this balance.
Some employers do not offer flexitime. Some employers do not allow women to go on leave when their children are sick; some employers discriminate against women; they skip them over for promotion to managerial positions because they are presumed to be unreliable on the job due to conflicting family commitments.
Sometimes, it’s just the horrible bottleneck on EDSA or the inadequacy of the mass transit system that keeps mothers from efficiently balancing work and family. Sometimes, it’s an accident on the highway that slows traffic to a standing halt. Sometimes it’s a flashflood after a downpour. Sometimes, it’s just three malls having sales at the same time. The list of annoyances go on forever…..
To the mothers and fathers out there who are doing their best to provide for and raise their kids — I salute you. You are doing a good thing. You are investing time in and hard work for your children. You are doing the best that you can, given the circumstances we cannot control.
My wish for you: may you find the strength, equanimity and humor to keep on doing the best you can. And may the traffic on EDSA and the crowds on the MRT part to let you through to see your kids by dinnertime tonight.
Have a great Monday, everyone.