Every weekday morning, I drag myself out of bed at the ungodly hour of 7am, make some half-assed attempt to pretend that I care about my appearance, and head out the door to my 9-5. This is my choice. But it is not my preference.
I work outside the home because my family needs the income. Not because my passion is sales or customer service.
My passion is giving snuggles, kissing boo boos, and reading stories. I am happiest when I am providing for my family, whether through preparing meals or washing clothes.
I love my job as mom as you love your job as lawyer. Or designer. Or realtor. And when you love your work, you want to dedicate your life to it.
Many people would say that past generations fought for us to have more. But what feminists fought for is having a right to choose. A choice to be an astronaut. Or a choice to be a mom. Or a choice to be both.
And choosing to be just an astronaut would not make me less of a person. Just as choosing to be just a mom does not make me unambitious.
I did not put my life on hold to have children. I have been waiting my entire life for them to arrive. My daughter is the purpose of my life. And if I only do one thing well, I hope that it’s raising a healthy, happy child that has the courage to follow her dreams. Whatever they may be.