I stopped by the desk of a departing coworker to wish her well. She was several years ahead of me in life, leaving her corporate communication role to spend more time with her growing sons. As a recent college grad, I was in the trenches of establishing myself.

“You’re doing great work. Your star will rise as high as you want it to.”

I beamed as her words settled in my ears, my chest lifting at the compliment. A vote of confidence from an admired senior colleague was my love language; I’d ride that boost of esteem for weeks.

Agency life was a fast-paced business, one that rewarded late nights and extra hours with accolades and more work. It was what I’d dreamed of pursuing, what all the internships had pushed me toward. I was fulfilled and happy.

We chatted a few more minutes as she packed up her desk. My eye caught the words of a framed print she lowered into a box: “Do what you love, love what you do.”

I was and I did.

***

I could not have anticipated all the times I’d feel the tug.

The time daycare called and needed more breastmilk in the middle of the day. The time I got the promotion—and the increased workload that came with it. The time my baby came home smelling like one of his teachers; she’d cuddled him that day. The time I canceled a client business trip because my son had just been hospitalized with RSV.

No one said life with a fast-paced career and motherhood would be easy—and to be honest, the question of how I would marry the two wasn’t one I asked many women before I became a mom. I was probably too afraid of the answers. I would figure it out.

I knew some of my colleagues had nannies for their children. Some operated in a blurry fog of daycare drop-offs and nightly bottle washing mixed with proposal development and conference calls. Others made the frantic lifestyle work for a while, then traded their Macs and power heels for mac and cheese and yoga pants.

I loved my child. I loved my career. I’d always been driven to reach for success, pushed by my have-it-all mentality. I’d make VP by 30, be managing director, raise account revenues, make homemade baby food, do all-day playtime on Saturdays and create an Instagram-worthy home. It was the life I heard the world saying was successful. It was the lifestyle I believed mattered and what I should do. It was how I wanted my star to rise. 

***

“So you’ll be staying home with your kids? That’s so wonderful!”

Two years after trading the beloved agency job for a corporate role, looking for a slower pace and more breathing room, I was making another change. I decided to quit my job but had no intention of staying home. I had a quiet, Holy Spirit nudge to leave, but I wasn’t sure what I was moving toward.

I needed space to discern and ponder, to breathe.

“Actually, I’m not sure. I need some time to figure out what comes next.”

In a world where career success is written as stepping from one promoted rung to another, landing the big account, being a slave to email with a sick sense of pride, my next right move wasn’t clear.

I had professional marketing and communication skills I loved to use and felt called to use for the glory of something bigger than companies focused on profits. And I now had two children I was smitten with and hated to be away from for long.

I loved the feeling of driving to work with make-up on and my own day ahead. I’d always felt like a better mom, a better version of myself, with the space that came from working. It was a lifestyle that demanded a lot, but gave me a lot, too. I’d always pushed to be an involved mom while striving to make my star rise the way I thought it should. It wasn’t working. 

***

Several months later, I’m starting to find my way. I’m neck-deep in LLC “how-tos,” brainstorming business names and reading about tax rules, creating my own consulting business to provide my family with our best option: space to use my professional gifts and the flexibility to be the mother and wife I feel called to be.

I’m realizing nearly five years into this motherhood gig that this is how it is, at least for me: clear lines and delineations are tough, a work-life balance is always elusive. For me, it’s working better to manage life holistically, to live in the tension of a to-do list with business-building tasks, birthday party ideas, and church projects all written on the same paper—mimicking the way they all float together in my mind.

After feeling for a long time like the work tasks owned the 8-to-5 me and everything else was relegated to the fringe, this life finally feels like something that will work.  

This is how I want my star to rise: my trusty Dell and deadlines living alongside mac and cheese. Client projects and chaperoning trips nestled together on my calendar. I want to create a life that offers myself and all of my work—both the professional talents and the beautiful children entrusted to me—as a star that rises for God’s glory.

Guest essay written by Meghann Naveau. Meghann is the founder of Es and Joe Communication and co-creator of a life spent doing good work with good people. She’s married to the dreamy engineer she met freshman year at the University of Dayton, and together they’re raising two sweet kids. She occasionally posts on Instagram, but is more often scrolling through others’ posts when she should be washing the dishes.