Musings on working

or what marriage, motherhood, and working all entail

“Women should absolutely not work outside of the home after they are married, especially if they have children because it’s against Catholic teaching.” // attributed to a large group of folks

I’m not a theologian or scholar of Catholic doctrine. I’m not a CEO of a company either. I’m not even a practicing attorney any more. I’m a 41-year-old married woman with five children who enjoys strategic planning, writing things, editing things, talking about things sometimes in public, and I’m Catholic. If you want a deep-dive on the history of Church teaching on gender roles, I simply don’t have that to give you. I only have my own experience and observations. Consider this the opposite of a catechetical lesson. Read

Emily Stimpson Chapman

if you want the deep-dive!

I love being a mom. It’s also been the biggest identity shift of my life, challenging me to re-learn who I really am. Little trip down memory lane:

I left practicing law full-time when we had our first baby, almost 14 years ago. I was pretty isolated, had no mom friends, and struggled postpartum with my identity (“what do you do?” “oh, I’m a lawyer who stays home with my baby” “oh.”). I was blessed to live with extended family who helped me not only day-to-day, but just kept me company. And yet overall, my perspective was “lonely.”

After our second was born 22 months later our first, I started a moms’ group at my parish. I was desperate to journey with other women in real life (old school blogging friends, I see you!)—as great as online friendships were, the incarnational thing is too. I had been sewing (a little etsy shoppe!) and blogging, taking my spare moments to do mostly unpaid jobs here and there, trying to use my “talents” (or whatever we’re calling things we like doing and are good at) so I didn’t go totally insane with a toddler and a baby with a husband who worked law firm hours (gone at least 12 hours a day). Even savoring those nights and weekends with my beloved spouse who was a fantastic dad, my perspective was “survival.”

Our third came along before our first was 4. The house care, child tending, helping out here and there at my parish, supporting my husband’s career, trying to grow spiritually, running a mom’s group, writing more frequently, sewing up a storm, all these took 24 hours a day. I was overwhelmed, immature still in many ways, and my lack of interior life drove me to being envious of people who had lots of free time to pursue their interests. I also didn’t sleep very much and was recovering from a doozy of a deliver with our 10 pound baby number 3 (this recovery took a year.) My perspective was “I want something for myself.” So when a women’s group started taking shape to write devotional essays, I threw my few free moments into it.

Our fourth came when our first was 6. I had been volunteering to help run this women’s ministry now for a few years, spare moments, family watching kiddos, staying up late at night, traveling to retreats with my baby in tow, and finding so much joy in feeling validated, necessary, and seen in my work. Eventually I began to be compensated for my work and that reinforced this view of it as “work”—that I was contributing the world in the form of essays editing, books published, community grown. In the landscape of parenting young children where no tangible evidence of progress is to be found even on the horizon, this (good and holy work) filled my need to accomplish something. My perspective was, “I’m doing important things.”

Many years later when I left the organization, wishing them well, and stepping into the desert of unknown, I stopped working for 8 months. I needed an entire shift of my perspective. The desire to have something beyond loneliness and survival for me to combat my insecurities of being unseen and unnecessary wasn’t healthy. I needed an interior shift and external circumstances wouldn’t make that happen.

I wanted something to make me feel important because I couldn’t see the importance of the hidden life. I was pursuing work for the wrong reasons. So the work itself wasn’t the problem, me, my perspective was.

{Yes, along the way, my husband and I had discerned how much work was too much to also be balanced as a mom at home, and yes, those hours dedicated to writing, speaking, or ministry management ebbed and flowed. It was prayed about and talked about a lot, so it’s only in retrospect that I see there was a flaw in my very foundational desire to do what I was doing: I felt I wasn’t enough without it.}

When I stopped doing virtually any outside project and fully dedicated myself to caring for our daughter sick with a chronic illness & a long healing spiritual retreat for myself (most of 2023), something else stopped.

I had gotten off this ferris wheel of “what I do is who I am.” I had stopped the cycle of self-reliance. I had simplified our budgetary life to accommodate one income. I had faced that the problem was not whether I worked or didn’t work or how much I worked or how clean my bathrooms were or how much money I earned. The problem was I thought I was what I did.

So to spell it out super clearly:

Moms who stay home: you are not your clean house, your instagram aesthetic, your pressed apron and twirly dress, your children’s ability to recite prayers in Latin or win a spelling bee. You are not what you do or what your children do. You are simply God’s beloved daughter making right & wrong choices, struggling with dumb bad habits and rejoicing in little victories. Your work in the home does not define you, so if you’re tempted to hinge your value on what your home looks like, just know it’s not the answer to the validation you may be seeking.

Moms who work outside the home most of the time: you’re not your income, your wins, your performance reviews, your project idea that soared or your missing-deadlines-flop, your supervisor who thinks you’re an asset or your co-worker who thinks you’re a dummy. Your successes or failures do not define you, so if you think your value as a person depends on how work is going, check that temptation for a deeper underlying desire to be loved.

Moms who combo: yes, that’s been me mostly the last 10 years. I’m grateful to run schedules, carpools, late-night fevers, and a stack of sourdough loaves for teacher gifts. I’m grateful to deliver talks that reach tens of thousands, craft strategy to impact tens of thousands, and advise on the sensitive topics of people’s story crafting and community shaping. I’m eternally grateful to have birthed five eternal souls into this world and be tasks with the irreplaceable role of being their mother. I’m profoundly grateful for my latest work in a non-profit with a unique occasion to lend my brain and experience to architecting a huge community growth.

What if the whole discussion around whether or not moms can work outside the home without neglecting the welfare of their children instead looked at 1) what do mothers need to be supported mentally, emotionally, and spiritually in motherhood, 2) who will give them that support, 3) what has God given them to share with the world, 4) who will help them with child-rearing while they do both: mother and gift-share?

Can you imagine a world where mothers were reverenced enough to say, “We will support you to both be primary person for your child and have an opportunity to either continue or to explore what else helps you tick as a person?” Where’s the village, you guys?

Okay, this is getting long, and it’s Memorial Day weekend. If mothers want and need to continue pursuits alongside raising their children, let’s support them. If mothers want to be full-time at home, let’s support them. If mothers are struggling in thinking their identity is what they do and how well they do is who they are, let’s support them by reminding them (preaching to myself):

You’re a precious child of God, beloved and delightful to the Father’s eyes. Even your motherhood is not WHO you are. Even your title at work is not WHO you are. You’re simply His. Now discern how you’ll spend your time with who doing what in the freedom of know this identity.

Happy May, and I’ll see you next week.

XO,

Nell