Going back to move forward

At the U.S. ambassador’s magnificent residence in Prague, surrounded by treasures created for the wealthiest Jewish family of Eastern Europe, our host showed us how each piece of furniture bore tags produced by the Nazi regime, which cataloged the original owners’ property that the Third Reich had stolen to use as their eastern HQ during the war, and potentially Hitler’s own home after Nazi victory.

We were there as guests of our shul friend, who bet right in the presidential primary and ended up with a plumb appointment as the U.S. ambassador to his family’s nation of origin, where they had thrived until their former neighbors sent them to Terezin, then Auschwitz. Life in D.C. can be a wild ride — one day you’re chit-chatting over herring bites and babka with your smart lawyer friend; next thing you know, you’re off to an unforgettable experience in a foreign land.

On Friday night, we took our seats under crystal chandeliers at a 30-foot-long dining table where our host served a lovely, traditional Shabbat dinner. The guests included three ambassadors, a former European prime minister, a Nobel winner…and yours truly, with my dear husband. Perhaps we provided the comic relief to a very heady dinner conversation.

At some point, the ambassador to my left asked me what I do. “I have five kids.” He quickly turned to his other neighbor, perhaps hoping for someone with a longer answer, or at least gainfully employed.

Now, once upon a time, I might have offered a respectable reply. I had earned a couple fancy university degrees, had a job at the top international law firm, and had embarked on a promising career in the field of my choice. I faced the world in my tailored suit each day and looked out my office window on the Empire State Building and lower Manhattan skyline, and later, after our move to D.C., at the Capitol dome.

Then I fell in love.

Technically, I had already fallen in love, and gotten married. In fact we just celebrated 30 years from the day we met, and while by now our romance involves a lot less dancing and a lot more Scrabble, we’re still going strong.

But let’s face it. The much-celebrated love of romantic walks in the park, gifted flowers, and diamond rings does not hold a candle to that somehow much less celebrated true love — having your first baby. The only thing that can possibly compare is perhaps your second baby, or your third, or…you get the idea.

Like all good Ivy-educated feminists, I had been trained to return quickly to work, and after some months I did, fully expecting to remain on a career woman’s life path. I found myself jealous of my babysitter and wondering what was the point of amazing opportunities if they kept you from pursuing the thing you wanted most. After I had my second daughter, I moved to part-time work, and by my third that was very part-time. Eventually I found myself in Prague, feeling happy and challenged day by day managing my brood, but aware that I made a less-than-worthy dinner party guest. Life is full of trade-offs.

By that point, my youngest was almost in school and I had started thinking about what I might do if I went “back” to work. As if managing a home and raising five humans weren’t work. And as if I would go back to what I had formerly done, if they even would have me. I absolutely loved and cherished my time with my kids when they were little. But, as our elegant Shabbat meal drove home, I also felt a certain sense of loss for having foregone work opportunities and all that goes along with it — new challenges, a certain respect, plus funds to pay for all those growing kids.

Later that year, for financial and personal reasons, I decided I needed to work for pay again. But I had no idea how to begin. With a lot of trial and error, and tons of help, I eventually began anew. It turned out that once I put myself forward, a surprising number of opportunities came into view. I managed multiple non-profits, started a strategic advice-consulting business, and eventually went back to law full time as a litigator. I’m now in my seventh year at my firm, serving a range of commercial clients. And while we can never know about the path not followed, I can confidently say I’ve accomplished plenty, and my career today is a version of what I expected had I not had that precious time with my kids, watching and learning from every moment.

I truly believe the lessons I learned from the years at home were the very best education in many work skills, too. The level of close observation of human development, combined with the dedication and genuine investment a mother has in her family, results in habits and skills directly applicable to the workplace. I learned more in those years than any job could have taught me about time management, organization, human nature, building relationships, negotiation, budgeting, and much more. I know these skills are valued, although I do wish more employers explicitly recognized the benefits of family life when considering candidates. I think most consider it a resume “gap,” as though moms spent the time in coma rather than navigating daily challenges and molding human lives.

Recently, I’ve decided to help other moms who want to transition into paid employment. I know they have so much to offer, and the world needs their skills. If this is you, feel free to let me know — I’d love to help support your next stage.

Just don’t ask me to talk about work at Shabbat dinners. My stories about my kids turn out to be much more engaging. After all, what is more captivating than the highs and lows of human lives unfolding, with you playing a role in the story?

Laura “Lori” Fein of Teaneck is a litigator at Eckert Seamans, a writer, and a podcaster at Mommash: The Oy and Joy of Family and the Viktor Frankl Podcast. She speaks publicly about family life and about current issues impacting the Jewish community. You can reach her at Mommashpodcast@gmail.com .