Intentional motherhood: a wildly convicting and fulfilling vocation

Why is the "natural role" of motherhood so difficult for us millennial women?

Growing up, I never believed my mom when she said that all she ever wanted to be was a mother. She loved art, teaching, decorating new spaces… she probably just said that mothering was her highest aspiration in a kindhearted attempt to help my sisters and me feel more wanted. As a millennial girl gifted in the current religion of STEM, I thought that a woman who was “just” a mother had failed in some way; either she didn’t hustle enough to realize her potential, or she got trapped by something. In contrast, I figured I could cash in my skills for true success: a high-paying career that could help the world by advancing technology, and I could simply tack on the role of “mother” along the way.

Yet, in 2023, I consciously traded a high-status, lucrative job to fully claim the vocation of motherhood. I had ridden my God-given talents to great heights, double majoring in engineering disciplines before starting a fully-funded PhD and later faculty position in Biomedical Engineering at Yale. I was then recruited to a multi-billion dollar healthcare investment firm, which had all the trappings of a dream job, especially for a young woman. I worked remotely before that was the norm, flew first class, interacted with top-tier scientific entrepreneurs, learned a ton, and got paid more than I ever thought I’d make. My days were full of dopamine hits, power plays, intellectual debates, and high-stakes decisions. In many ways, it was a dream job… until my blessed daughter Naomi was born in late 2019, turning my world upside down before the rest of the world turned upside shortly thereafter. I found myself awash in unprecedented waves of love, presence, and responsibility. Beholding my baby girl, a human in her most natural state, I wept for the layers of armor I had taken on through my life, and then the next minute I wept with gratitude. For the first time, I fully felt that I was doing the right thing, the natural thing, in mothering my baby, and I was filled with a deep, radiant joy. I relished my daughter sleeping on my chest and became acutely aware of the seconds passing, willing time to stand still so I could snuggle her more.

I realized that everything I had chased in efforts to be happy - career, status, money, “security,” impact - were actually false idols. This mother role was much more difficult and less overtly rewarded than my previous jobs, but oceans more intimate and authentic than anything I’d experienced. I leaned into the vulnerability of letting my husband take care of me, allowing visitors into our messy home, feeling unapologetically exhausted, meeting ugly parts of my shadow self, and the raw physical closeness of the sacred mother-baby dyad. Days stretched on as I cherished the raw femininity in my beautiful baby girl and, in turn, the beautiful femininity within myself.

When my maternity leave ended, I had a call with a senior member of the firm who advised me how to position myself to get on the partner track. During the discussion, I watched Naomi peacefully napping in her swing and heard my intuition saying a resounding “NO".” No, I don’t want to give up time, sanity, and presence to a career that my heart isn’t in; no money is worth my time with my husband, daughter, and future children. I’d seen this story play out too many times to fall into the trap of “I’ll be a more present wife/mother/friend once I make partner.” Maybe that’s part of the reason many of the high-flying career women I’ve observed were unhappy; somewhere they felt the guilt of running away from their highest vocation, motherhood, in service of culturally-applauded activities. And they were missing out on the soul fortification of actually being present with their babies. I was exhausted, yes, and it didn’t look like much was going on from the outside, but I felt more confident and self-aware than I had in years, and my purpose felt clear. I was at a crossroads, a branchpoint that I believe many women face when they give birth: now that I’m a mother, how much of myself can I afford to give my job?

I wish I could say that I quit my job that very day to be with my baby, but I didn’t. Since Naomi’s primary caregiver was her father, who had courageously quit his engineering job when my maternity leave ended, I felt comforted that she had one parent 100% dedicated to her. And if her mother is just doing the bare minimum in her home office to continue holding and breastfeeding her, Naomi should be well taken care of, right? Looking back, I see that Naomi was indeed well cared for, but I had never put myself into the equation. I didn’t think I needed to, not knowing the toll that would be taken on me and my marriage from being a full-time employee and the breadwinner. In those early years of motherhood, I did the best I could, but I was far from the relaxed mother and gracious wife that I yearned to be.

Enter baby Arthur, born in February 2022. Easier labor, easier postpartum, easier adjustment to being a family of four, which somehow felt more balanced than being a family of three (where 90% of the attention was directed towards our daughter). My needs and desires surfaced more strongly to be recognized and validated, and I felt more empowered and brimming with creative ideas. Suddenly, I couldn’t tolerate being an employee anymore at the expense of being a present mother. I was making more money than ever, but I wanted out as soon as possible. After watching Naomi grow for the last two years, I knew the time goes so fast and is so precious, and I was not willing to miss it.

As someone who tends to rationalize away her feelings to keep the peace, it was not easy for me to tell my husband that I wanted - no, that I needed - to quit my job. I felt like I was blowing up our life when I told him that I can’t keep working and nursing and handling a toddler and running our house, and that I wanted him to take care of our family financially so I could rest, relax, and mother. I’ll skip the details of our moves for now and simply say that along the way, I saw how being the “breadwinner” allowed me to feel superior to my husband and gave me license to be irritable and angry. I realized that there would be many ego and identity deaths required to jump out of the career world, and ultimately, I would need to release my harmful thought patterns (like “no one helps me”), surrender control, and have faith in my husband.

By God’s grace, I am now fully inhabiting the vocation of intentional mother, and I’ve found it to be more confronting, sanctifying, and fulfilling than I could have imagined. It took a few weeks to adjust to the reality that I am now with my children for long, long stretches (as opposed to trading back and forth throughout the days) and to really slow down. In the unhurried pace, buried memories surfaced to be processed, and I recognized that much of my anger has been grief in disguise. I resisted ego urges to scurry off into busyness to escape the melancholy feelings that came up, and my priorities became praying, encouraging, relaxing, and beholding. Since I missed the stimulation of my job, I let my little ones be my guides and tried to mimic the joy they felt in the simplicity of nature or a well-illustrated book. For the first time, I was fully in motherhood, trying my best, and seeing all the places I fell short. Since I was deficient in domestic skills, I humbled myself to learn how to cook and clean well. After all, I want my children to look back and remember enjoying their mother’s comfort foods in a peaceful setting, and I now have the bandwidth to intentionally create those conditions.

Ultimately, I learned that home-based mothering is a venture of self-governance, just like entrepreneurship and doctoral studies. Without discipline and intentionality, it can get frustrating quickly. It’s up to me to observe myself, my children, and our environment and then structure our days accordingly; no one is going to tape a calendar on the wall. Reminiscent of my lab bench years, I’ve experimented with my mothering, growing in my understanding of individual and group dynamics and crafting a beautifully rhythmic schedule. In this freedom comes great responsibility, especially for my attitude. I’ve sat in enough women’s circles to know that our moods set the tone for our husbands and children; mothers truly are the hearts of the home. Again and again, I’ve recommitted to reign in my grumpiness and exude gratitude and optimism, often begging Jesus to give me a new heart. My work has gone from intellectual to emotional to spiritual.

Perhaps most surprising and significant are the changes in myself. As I approach a year out of the working world, I feel softer, kinder, more relaxed, open. In prior phases of my life, I sought growth through masculine ventures like triathlons and career moves, but this feminine endeavor has gifted me far more growth. My children continually humble me, mostly through emotional outbursts, giving me the opportunity to see what parts of myself are still operating with perfectionism (i.e. pride) and to grow in empathy. I’m learning to disentangle behaviors, situational factors, pains, and character attributes and to love what actually is, not what I think should be. Deep belly laughs and extended snuggles have loosened anxious grips of control within me, and most days I feel excited to see what adventures I’ll undertake with my little ones. I’ve been blessed with a growing community of families, and I enjoy encouraging mothers to use their gifts to advance their own heart-driven ventures without taking on too much stress. For the first time in my adult life, I’m receiving, and as such, I have capacity to genuinely delight in my children and appreciate my husband. While I’m still in the beginning stages of my sanctifying and fulfilling journey, I can confidently say that our children, husbands, and communities benefit beyond measure when we own the vocation of intentional motherhood. That said, I truly believe that when I made the necessary sacrifices to lean into motherhood, I was the one who benefited most of all.

Whoever clings to his life shall lose it, and whoever loses his life shall save it. Luke 17:32