Back to Work

There was a time when I prided in myself being a workaholic, and all along as I carried that badge with pride, I never imagined I’d take a break from work. Pregnancy and motherhood never crossed my mind. And I definitely didn’t think about them until I discovered I was pregnant (nearly two years back)! I remember telling my then boss about my pregnancy…something for me and for the sake of my career, it was more important for me to know what my boss thought of my pregnancy than my husband!!

Anyways, the story of how things panned out after that is a thing of the past…I took a (well-deserved and highlyenjoyable) break. Then realised a little late in the day that I wasn’t made for a ‘job’. I wanted to have a career, but I wanted to create a job for myself. When I turned a WAHM, entrepreneurship soon followed and I realised the sense of empowerment and satisfaction that comes from it. The joy of being with my son and using my motherhood tag as an entrepreneur made me comfortable and happy.

But the impending need of making up for the loss of bank balance was a bit too much. A year and a half of being a sporadic earner, took a serious toll on our finances and so I didn’t want to wait around to make up for the loss. And so I decided to take up a job that’d give  a new push to my career.

This post for Parentous is about my journey back to work…


The moment I switch off the ignition and get off my car, I look up at the balcony. On most evenings, unless he is sleeping or is playing with his Daddy (who usually gets home before me) I find V with his nanny, waiting for me at the balcony.

I wave at him. He points his baby finger at me and gives me that adorable dimpled smile that makes me forget everything. I climb up the stairs, off load my bag and lunchbox, open my arms for V to come to me. Every day, V rushes in giving me a warm, light hug. Every day this is our exercise when I get back home. Except yesterday when it wasn’t all the same.

Like every other day, I found V waiting for me at the balcony. I looked up to him and waved. He didn’t smile back. When I reached him I saw him in his outing sandals… all booted ready to go out. “He insisted I change my sandals too,” said his nanny. I looked down at her feet. Yes, she was ready to go out too.

“Where do you think you’re going, little man?” I asked V.

You can read the rest of the post at Parentous.

Are you a mother who’s had to leave your baby at home? How does that make you feel? How do you deal with it? 

Do you think flexihours and the facility to work-from-home would make you a better employee and mother? 

Write to me and share your thoughts.


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