For Me? by Linda Gyrsting Elkan This article originally appeared in the April 1999 issue of Welcome Home. Article Copyright 1999 Linda Gyrsting Elkan. Reproduction or dissemination of this work -- or any part of it -- is expressly forbidden without the written consent of the author.

When I unwrapped the present from my husband Matthew, it looked at first glance to be not only unromantic but downright disparaging. It was a leather business card holder.

I hadn’t had business cards since my days as a practicing lawyer. I used them for all the usual business purposes, scribbled with messages like, “Hope you find this article helpful” or “Call me to set up an interview.” The cards came in handy beyond the office as well. If I made a new acquaintance that I thought might turn into friendship, always an elusive thing among us suit-wearing legal types in Washington, D.C., then I could jot down my number and get the same in return.
So, glancing down at this classy business card holder, I wasn’t sure what to say. Matthew, brown eyes gleaming with anticipation, suggested I open it.

Open it? Why should I open it? I don’t have a profession anymore. Not a business card profession, I mean.

I had practiced law for ten years, and then I fell in love--with our sweet little baby boy. My six-month maternity leave evolved into a twenty-hour work week from home. My bosses eventually issued an ultimatum demanding my return to the office. I decided I wanted to have more time with my son.

Happily, we had about three months to cut our budget before my last pay-check. Yet I was terrified that, when the time came, we wouldn’t be able to pay our bills. I devoured all the money-saving tips I could find and began a campaign to make ends meet.

We gave up some expensive luxuries. That was the quick and easy part--the only quick and easy part. I started to cook more, shop less, simplify, learn to desire less. I bade farewell to my housecleaner and started cleaning the house myself.
The thought of being home full-time stirred up anxious feelings in me. I was worried about the money. Financial security was not something I’d had as a child. A career in law had at least given me the means to support myself. Could I give up my financial freedom and learn to depend on my husband? Could I gracefully accept his offer to be the sole breadwinner?

I also wondered if I would miss going to the office, although I had already begun to build a new life with the mothers in my play group. Though I met these women only because they had first-born children within six months of mine, the connections we shared were closer and more satisfying than those I had with my work buddies.

My last day at the office finally arrived. I spent the day briefing the attorneys who would take over my files, returning office supplies, going out to lunch and bidding farewell to a career. When I returned home, unceremoniously chucked my office pumps into the back of the closet and peeled off my panty hose, tossing them into the garbage can along with a stack of now-obsolete business cards.

Since that day, we have not only survived but flourished on one salary. I wish I could say that I always had faith in my husband’s ability to provide for our family financially, and in my own ability to provide for it in my new role. The truth is that it came slowly over a long time.

In the years since I quit work, Matthew has often told me how much he appreciates some of the unanticipated benefits of my staying home. He admitted to me that during my two years as a working mother he used to breathe a little easier knowing the babysitter was heading home and I was taking care of our child. As a two-lawyer couple, we used to eat either very late or very cold or very microwaved food. Now that I’m home, we can all enjoy the hot meals I have the time to prepare. Another son has since joined our family, and my husband enjoys hearing that the boys and I have been to the playground, played with clay, run in the sprinkler or washed the car together. We both appreciate letting our kids sleep as long as their little bodies need instead of having to rush them off to daycare in the morning. I treasure being there to listen, wipe away tears or just sit and stare at the squirrels fighting the birds for the garden produce.

All this went through my mind as I held my husband’s gift in my hand. At Matthew’s request, I opened the case and took out a card. It was a classy shade of pale heathery pink with deep burgundy-colored print. There was my name in large, bold letters and right below, where my old card used to say “Attorney-at-law,” it said something different, something I’d never seen on any business card before. It said, “Hearth Tender.” My eyes filled with tears, and we sat together on the couch admiring the card.

So if you meet me in the park and our children like playing together, or I find out you know of a great cheap family vacation, we can exchange phone numbers. Better yet, I can give you my card.