What I Sacrificed To Raise My Kids

It’s time to get real about what 25+ years out of the job market has cost me.

I became a full-time, stay-at-home-mom in June of 1998. The plan (which was not The Plan, because The Plan hadn’t called for us having any children at all until we’d been married 5 years) had been for me to return to work when my baby was 6 weeks old. But a month after she’d been born I’d returned to sign the final registration paperwork at the center we’d selected to provide care for her, and although I recognized the cribs with plexiglass sides and row of side by side high chairs from my first visit, the place seemed much less hospitable. Within 24 hours I’d had a near miss with hysteria at the thought of leaving my daughter, still so recently inside my womb, in the hands of strangers. My husband and I ditched the plan for my return to full-time employment as easily as we had surrendered The Plan in the face of new circumstances. I found part-time work, and my husband and I split childcare duties on our separate schedules.

But by the time our baby was nine months old, the edges of our sanity and our marriage were beginning to feel prickly. It was time to make a change. Did I commit to returning to my field now that our baby rounding the corner of her first year? Or did we take the full dive and become a single-income family for the foreseeable future?

Considering our bank balance led the conversation in one direction. Looking at our daughter took us on another path. In the end, the finances couldn’t outshout our hearts. I took the plunge that summer and have never looked back. I have no regrets. I have raised four children to adulthood, and am in the trenches of discipling six more. I have had time to pour into my marriage. I have been available for aging parents have friends in need of shelter during pivotal transition points in their lives. The journey the Lord took me on has been rich beyond my imagining, and I am grateful that His ways were, indeed, much higher than my own.

But there has been a cost. When those of us who have been called to step outside of the world of paid employment act as if we have only gained, society senses the deceit. Our daughters— potential future homemakers— can sniff it out as well. They have eyes. They can look around at the world and see that what we call good isn’t measured by the same yardstick that others are offering. Our job, then, is to be honest. To say plainly what we have gained, yes. But also, to share unflinchingly what we’ve given up in the pursuit of this life, and then explain why we wouldn’t have it any other way.

“For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?”—Luke 14:28

What I’ve given up

I landed my dream job before I graduated from college. A month before I got my degree (and two months before I got married), I was hired to work in the publications arm of a U.S. congressman’s office. I loved politics. I was good at my job. I got paid exceptionally well. Everyone told me that I had all the signs of being on the fast track to bigger and better things. So what have I lost?

I gave up my unique, marketable skills. Back in the early 90s, I had been on the front end of learning design software that allowed publications to step out of the world of physically cutting out printed stories, applying wax to the paper, and placing them on boards to be loaded into a printing press. Now antiquated programs like Adobe PageMaker and Quark XPress changed layout forever, and paved the way for the user friendly formats even my 9 year-old can use to make his own newsletters today. But when I began my career, having the skills to run these computer programs gave me a huge leg up in the hiring process and some major bargaining power when it came to negotiating salary and benefits. I didn’t have to worry about waiting tables while I tried to get a job in my field. Nowadays, my once-marketable skills are completely obsolete; anyone can pull up a Canva template and do in minutes what it took me, a professional, days to do in 1997. I couldn’t get a job in political publishing if I offered to do it for free.

I gave up making a name for myself. Part of the lure of outside employment is the perception of an impact that goes beyond the walls of your own home. We unintentionally reinforce this as a thing to be desired; we talk about politicians, CEOS, actors, sports stars, musicians, missionaries who’ve made big enough ripples to be remembered. The idea of our name being famous— at least recognized in small circles— or of “doing something big” for Jesus is sown early, and that seed is watered every time we celebrate the accomplishments of others. This isn’t inherently bad! But it points to the sin of pride we call carry tucked inside our hearts. See, we can’t hear of someone else’s name being magnified without wondering, “Why not me?” and, in our youth at least, fanning the small flame of a dream that we might someday be the famous one. But homemakers? We must settle for something much more intimate. Our audience consists of our husband, children, and the people placed in our path, yes. But the one we most seek to please is the Lord Himself, and that is something that comes without the kind of earthly reward that gets your name recognized on the internet.

I gave up seeing the world. Ok, I actually have seen a good chunk of it… but not from the deck of a cruise ship. I haven’t checked off bucket list journeys like many folks my age, and don’t have any means to do so. (The truth is, if a sum of money large enough to make one of those trips landed in my lap, I’d repurpose it back into our mission budget anyhow, so there’s that.) In an economy where annual vacations are considered essentials, I’m woefully underfunded. We took our six kids at home on an adventure to Florida in November of last year, and were grateful. It was extremely low budget, and made possible only by the generosity of a ministry supporter who offered us a massive discount on a timeshare stay. I won’t ever see the Coloseum in Rome. I won’t walk the hills of Ireland. I won’t walk black sand beaches or float in the Dead Sea. Those things take money, and a one-income, homeschooling family doesn’t have the means to make that happen.

I gave up being someone whose opinion matters. Oh, this is a hard one. But it’s true. Think back on any interview you’ve heard on just about anything. Politics. The latest movie release. A new program in a National Park. How often have you heard, “And here’s what Jenny, a homemaker from Nowheresville, West Virginia, has to say about it”? Not very often, right? Maybe bordering on never. Because the honest truth is that movies aren’t made for stay-at-home moms. Our vote isn’t courted. No one cares how we feel about anything that extends beyond what they see as our (very limited) scope of interest. Think of what it’s taken to get a single strain of red dye out of our food and medicine. Do you think that if a coalition of female lawyers and doctors and CEOS banned together to do the same, the fight would have taken decades? Not a chance.

But do I want what I haven’t got?

This is the million dollar question, and one I can answer without a tinge of regret. After all, I’ve been in this lifestyle for nearly three decades. If I had wanted to change the course of my life, I could have. There have been plenty of moments where the question dangled in the air: go back to work, or stay home? At every fork in the road, I chose home. I chose to be my husband’s helpmeet. I chose my kids. I chose to remain the anonymous housewife making sure the laundry is washed and folded and that the friend having surgery knows a hot meal is on its way to her table even though she’s in a hospital 20 miles a way.

I have skills. They aren’t marketable, or even unique. Every homemaker I know either has them or is working on them. I can see a need and fill it. I can make a meal from whatever is at hand. I can step into any emergency and offer my help. I can make a moody 16 year-old feel seen. I can be the mom who is always willing to say, “I choose you. Always.” No one would pay me for these skills, but when they’re needed, they’re invaluable.

I have many names. My husband calls me Woman. I know it’s a term of derision for many, but in our relationship, it’s an endearment, an inside joke that gives me a feeling of warmth every time I hear it being called across the house. My kids and kids-in-law call me Momma, Mum, Mother, Mom— depending on the child. I love that they each have claimed me in a way that’s unique to our individual relationship. To my grandchildren, I am Marmee. Yes, I got to pick that one. I chose it because of the character in Little Women, in whose footsteps I’d gladly be seen walking. These names are more precious to me than any title I’d earn at a paying job.

I have seen people. God created a vast and astounding planet, but do you know what He views as His most precious creation by far? His children. And I have seen them. I have held the children that He has given me, rocking them through sickness and health. I have stood beside my husband as He’s faced obstacles that threatened to topple him. As a foster mother, I have tended drug-addicted babies through long nights, setting them on the road to recovery. I have witnessed my mother dying, holding her hand until long after she took her last breath. Being a homemaker has given me the time to see people, and to serve them.

I matter to God. God’s Kingdom is built on the blood of Jesus. But the framework He uses to glorify His Name is the hands and feet of believers like me. A small army, at the ready, not chained to a 9-to-5 or obligated to be a mouthpiece for an organization or anything with less importance than His Son. Jesus came and died for my salvation, and that? That’s the ultimate “being seen.” You can’t even begin to measure that in human terms. But on top of that, the Lord asks me, through the Holy Spirit, to step in where I’m needed. To serve where it counts. To be part of a bigger story.

The list of things I’ve gained? It far outweighs those that I’ve lost. Would I ever trade my Now for the Someday of which I once dreamed? Not a chance. I’ve found something far more valuable and fulfilling, right here in my own home.

Depending on what you did in your life “before,” you may have a longer (or shorter) list of things you sacrificed when you relinquished your role outside of your home to serve inside. Regardless, I suspect that, shown side-by-side, you’ve reaped more than you ever imagined possible in the days when you wrestled with the decision. You counted the cost, and while it is a lot to lay down, the terms of that exchange are solely written in earthly currency. In eternity, dividends will be paid. And even here, there is a contentment and joy in being able to fully surrender to the role of wife and mother that few outside of our circle will understand. So yes, I’ve sacrificed. But oh… what I’ve gained.

In Christ,

Heather