So long, and thanks for all the fish

This was the title of a goodbye email I sent to my colleagues when I used to work as an IT Specialist in 2004. I left my job headed by a most fantastic boss and a great bunch of people on the project too. It was a decision that went against the grain but that felt right, even though I didn't know what future lay ahead of me, and I was leaving a potentially secure and set-for-life job there. I left to go back to university, to do a Masters degree, which turned into a PhD in Psychology.

A similar feeling is running through me at the moment.  

I'm two weeks away from leaving my first research job since the PhD qualification.

My first post doc (research fellow, 2 year contract) since obtaining my PhD, getting married 5 days after my viva, having my daughter a year after. We always planned for me to take a break from research after getting married, and concentrate on starting a family, but my plan was to return and try to get a post doc position - to use my PhD. After 4 years undergraduate and 4 1/2 years postgraduate studies at university, you feel a necessity to apply that knowledge acquired through so much gut slogging and financial and personal sacrifice.

Since April 2010, I started a research post in a completely new area, my PhD was in the visual attention of healthy young and older adults and stroke patients (cognitive psychology/neuroscience) and the influence of semantics; my new research area is applied speech sciences/psychology, looking at social neuroscience and infant development. I've been reading all about attachment theory, secure/insecure attachment, borne out of intrustive or withdrawn parenting from the mother, and the consequences there of on the child's speech, language, social, emotional and cognitive development. All quite deep to read as a mother of a 9 - 19 month old daughter. The main premise being tested is the impact of self esteem and self efficacy in the mother on her ability to be a sensitive mother, bringing about contingent interactions with her child. Believing in your ability to be a mother makes a big difference on how you are with your child and your child's development as a consequence.

In particular, I was reading up on the biology of this relationship, finding out about the brain activity that goes on when postpartum mothers view pictures of their child in the scanner (magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) of the brain, to find out which areas are activated (have higher/lower blood flow/ oxygen use), and what this means (e.g., James Swain, 2010). Finding out about the differences in levels of stress hormones (cortisol) and 'love/bonding' hormones (oxytocin) in mothers as a consequence of higher stress levels and parenting styles, (e.g., breastfeeding maintains oxytocin levels after birth) and the consequence on the child (e.g., Feldman et al., 2007). Finding out about the genetics of this evolving relationship, how it passes down generations, but how environmental situations (e.g., if the mother is more sensitive to the child's cues) can reduce the impact of predisposition to difficulties in the child, e.g., externalising behaviours (see Bakermans-Kranenberg, 2006). About the first year being so critical in the development of the right hemisphere of the infant's brain - representing the sub-conscious, emotional aspect of the developing person. The left hemisphere, intellectual development, is built on that first year's emotional development. it is the primary caregiver who has the greatest impact on that first year (c.f. Alan Schore, 2001).

This was all so fascinating and very much connected with the depth of feeling I have found in my new role as a Mother, so why am I not staying?

Cover of Graham Allen Early Intervention report, 2011

Whilst learning these fascinating and incredibly important things, particularly when you think about society today and think about the consequence of those early years on the later lives of children...see the Graham Allen report (I digress), I was wavering in confidence. I was also recognising the negative impact of the stress I felt daily at work on my ability to be a sensitive mother and wife (and be comfortable in myself). After reading these papers and feeling the biological evidence of the stress in myself and knowing it's impact, I couldn't really block it out and keep going anymore without trying to change things, I was beginning to feel like a hypocrite - I didn't want to regret any impact my stretched way of living may be having on Abigail and B (and me).

My working days.

To get to work, I've been leaving the house with Abigail about 7.15am, parking, walking Abbie to nursery in the city centre at about 8am and walking on to work for 8.30am. Leaving work at 5pm, getting home for 6.45pm. In between is the research fellow bit. Bed about 10pm, up again about 6am.
 
I thought after the first few months, things would pick up - that I wouldn't feel so exhausted, that the bugs would go down, that the money left after paying for nursery fees, petrol and too-knackered-to-cook takeaways, wouldn't seem so bad as I got used to it. Not to mention to strain on home life - I only worked part-time (easy life you say), but on my days off I was pretty useless alot of the time, having put everything in to my work. The house was a tip. My husband was working so hard as well, but I haven't been able to support him as much as I'd like, because of my own issues. In addition, there are the funding worries hanging over me as they do in research, so I didn't have a permanent contract, and neither did my department.

Everyone has their own story and I don't think mine is more important or unique, I'm just setting the scene (well, trying to but probably only just scratching the surface of what is a complicated hodge-podge, as it is for most people).

Although I find the work fascinating, I also find it incredibly hard to do, and there goes my confidence. A bit like in my PhD in a way. Does everyone else find this easier than me? Am I good enough? Am I working hard enough? Then the paranoia... What do my colleagues think? Do I look like a slacker because I don't work at home in the evenings/ weekends?

Things were particularly tough this December, the snow hit hard - snowed in and bugs after that, Abigail, then me, then B hit. B works in a different city, so with the nursery where I work it's a long round trip for him to get to nursery, then work, when I'm ill. Add the snow/icy driving conditions and it is pretty crappy all round. We don't have the family to call on when one of us is ill, needs to go to the doctor's or something, it is just the two of us, mostly scrabbling. You realise the difference family makes especially at these times. Abigail is a person, sickness happens, you can't stop it, she needs taking care of when she's ill and we need to get better to take care of her as well. It is just quite difficult to feel like you're apologising over and over again for missing work, and nobody else is.

Christmas was a timely period to take stock. After feeling that I was on a treadmill, with no choice but to work: To use my PhD, to sacrifice now for the potential of an easier life in the future (well, in terms of finances and career opportunities anyway). This was the case until I was given the opportunity to be honest with myself when B asked me "What would make me happy?"

Instead of thinking about what I should do, what I could or have the potential to do; worrying about what judgements people would make of me for not working ("all right for some", etc.), what is it that I want?

I just want to be a mum.

And that is what starts on 25th February 2011.

Note: These are my experiences of being a working mum, I wouldn't judge anybody else's situation as we all have different ones. In a different life setup, I may well have stayed in my job and enjoyed it. That combination just wasn't working for me. It doesn't mean other people don't find a balance.