How to Handle 'The Return'

The whatever-you-want strategy I've advised so many women to focus on suddenly seems incredibly, overwhelmingly unclear.

And I might know why: Maybe I know too much.

I know what I hear from the countless women who contact me. And I know scary things like this: According to a 2005 study by the Center for Work-Life Policy, only 74 percent of women who take time off to raise children are able to find work later, and only 40 percent return to full-time professional jobs. But what do they come back to? Sure, by law an equal position has to remain open to them, but not necessarily the job they had before.

So not only is my world going to turn upside down because of a new family member I've created, but my job world is likely to change, too. Will this baby mean the end of my other "baby," the column? Will it mean moving on from a topic that I live, breathe and read about so much that it is my life? On the other hand, is this my chance to do something different? If I do try something new, will I regret making the change? On top of such a big life change?

(Gasp, pant.) And women say labor is tough.

I have the same concerns that many women with children do -- we may have more choices than our mothers did, but the onus still falls mostly on the mom to figure out what changes to make. And for those who want or need to work, the choices aren't always promising.

This pregnancy has given me a pass to a wonderful across-all-barriers club. The mother-security guards, cafeteria workers, janitors and editors at my workplace have all commented, questioned, applauded and advised. I know that many of them had more difficult decisions than I to make -- as single moms earning minimum wage with unpaid maternity leave, for instance.

On a recent crowded bus ride home, the driver yelled: "I know someone's getting up for the pregnant lady!" The first person to stand up was the woman who stands all day making sandwiches in the Post cafeteria. I knew she knew what it was like to work all day carrying 35 pounds more than just months before, worrying all the while about the job and child care. I didn't take her seat. I grabbed the one from the guy reading the Economist. He could bear to stand for a while.

Our archaic laws make it difficult for women to be workers, mothers and providers. Sure, the Family and Medical Leave Act of 1993 allows up to 12 weeks of leave to care for a newborn or newly adopted child (or for other medical or family emergencies). But it is unpaid leave, only companies with 50 or more employees need to adhere to it, and only employees who have worked at these companies for at least 12 months can use it. Meanwhile, nearly half of all workers in the private sector have no paid sick leave.

All of which makes The Return a major trauma for many new mothers. A friend said that when she was deciding what to do after her maternity leave, she had one criterion: The job would have to thrill her. Otherwise, it wouldn't be worth leaving her daughter. Another, who worked for a hot technology company for more than a decade, never loved her job. Last year, after months of worrying, questioning and budgeting, she decided to stay home with her baby. I remember hanging up after talking to her and thinking, "This is it: my first stay-at-home-mom friend." I think it was almost as momentous for me as it was for her.

Still, I do appreciate that we even have these choices. My mother became an art teacher, though she wanted to be an architect, because that's what women did in the 1960s. And when she became pregnant, she left work for years, returning only when I was old enough to get off the bus by myself.

I come, in fact, from a family of mothers who stayed home. My aunt often asks if I'll ever move back to the Pittsburgh area, where most of my big, loving family lives. I once told her it probably wouldn't happen and was about to explain that Steven and I wouldn't have many job options there. But before I got that out, she knowingly shook her head: "That makes sense. Steven has a good job in D.C."

Grrrr. It's that way of seeing the world, I thought, that will always send me back to work after I have children.

But then I think about the aunt who raised seven kids and is now helping raise their children. And my mother and other aunts. They all stayed home, and they did a mind-bogglingly great job. (See also: my big, loving family.) Did we all turn out this well because our moms didn't work until we could fend for ourselves?

I tell myself that's not the case. Children have more home time with both parents now. The percentage of women ages 25 to 54 who cite "home responsibilities" as their reason for not seeking a job has been shrinking for more than a decade. Meanwhile, the number of men citing that reason has edged up, according to the Labor Department. I know that Steven and I share equally (if not leaning more on him) in the home-responsibilities department. And he is one of those guys who could probably -- and more than willingly -- make being a stay-at-home dad work.

I think what I've learned during these past nine months or so is that no matter what I decide, I'll have to tell myself it's the right choice for me. But I'll always wonder if there's another way to do it.

So for now, like the many women I chat with each week, I'll make my choices, I'll question them, I'll love this kid with a love I assume I haven't felt before.

And then I'll march off to work with the other commuters, hoping that I'm handling The Return the right way.

joycea@washpost.com

Amy Joyce is a Washington Post staff

writer.