And now my watch has ended: On Leaving Tech for Homemaking
This past month, I resigned a job in tech to become a stay-at-home mom that writes on the side. My decision took hours upon hours of deep reflection, with doubt and guilt creeping up uninvited.
Not being one to miss an opportunity to throw in a Game of Thrones reference, I’ll compare my intrusive thoughts to those of a man of the Night’s Watch pondering desertion:
Was I abandoning my post? Was I a “turncloak” to my Sisters fighting the good fight in a difficult industry? Would my past selves be disappointed in me — nay, ring the bell of Shame?
Visions of the Me’s of the Past appeared in my mind, each one lost in her own world:
What would 19-year-old Laura think? She was wracking her brain to understand programming languages, staying up late to deal with databases class and fighting tooth and nail to get good internships. Would she be upset that after “making it”, I chose to leave the industry?
Would my 23-year-old self be upset? She had scored a job at Microsoft in the middle of the recession, packed her bags and left the home she loved . Had she left her family and island in vain?
Was I failing the me at 30? With a new job at a company she admired , she was enjoying work more than ever. How dare I put an end to this when we have it so good.
These were my anxious thoughts when I only focused on the infamous “They”. What would “They” think about my decision?
They — the Me’s of the Past — could have never predicted 2020: how the pandemic changed every assumption about daycare, health, socializing, and working. On top of that, they had no idea what it felt like to have a child. My priorities changed and thankfully, I had not made binding vows in front of a sacred tree. The “Tech Industry” wouldn’t get on a horse, come after me in the night and interrogate me on why I had left my post.
Despite my pride in everything I learned, every product I worked on, and every team I joined — I knew there was something immensely important I wanted to do. It had nothing to do with software and everything to do with my baby girl.
Still, the doubt niggled…Was I being a fool? Brave? Both? In the words of George R.R. Martin:
“Bran thought about it. ‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’
‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ his father told him.”
“The Brave Choice” for me is not “The Brave Choice” for every working caregiver. I applaud every parent that has made a choice: whether it’s to send their bébés to daycare, to watch them while working, or to leave the workplace entirely.
I made my choice and resigned. I bid farewell to my work friends and officially started calling myself “A Writer” on LinkedIn.
If my past selves ever find out. I hope they see how lucky I am. How lucky, that I was able to make this choice for myself and my family without putting our finances, health or livelihood at risk. How fortunate, that I was able to leave on my own terms, at my own pace and with the support of my co-workers. How blessed, that my daughter got to spend a year seeing Mamá work on HBO Max and now gets to see Mamá start her own writing business. It is tremendous, that after working for 12 years in a badass industry, I can take everything I’ve done and start something new.
Perhaps my other Sisters of the Watch — the Me’s of the Future will look at it positively:
Maybe 40-year-old me will appreciate that I did what felt right, even when it was scary.
Fifty–year-old me might be grateful I spent my children’s earliest years by their side.
It could be, that 60-year-old me looks back that this moment and laughs that I ever worried that much about it in the first place. I can almost hear her saying “ Oh, my sweet summer child. “
