When AG was around 15 months old, I left my full-time job for what was meant to be the first few years of her young childhood. This was in the spring of 2000. I had graduated from college in the spring of 1998, so I had not traveled a terribly long distance down the career path yet. I didn’t leave my job doing development work for a south Florida private school – designing, writing, and editing print materials for fundraising and public relations, basically – for the reasons you might expect, either.

Which is to say, at this point in her life AG had not been diagnosed with asthma yet. While my daughter’s health was not great, as a new mother with little experience of babies, I didn’t recognize it as not great. She got sick often; her colds lasted for weeks and sometimes even a month; and we had taken her to the ER for respiratory health for the first time at 10 months, on the Millennial New Year’s Eve. Yep, we spent the biggest First Night we are likely ever to see at All Children’s Hospital in St. Petersburg, Florida.

Still, though. Life with AG did not strike us as abnormal because Mr. Asthma Mom and I did not actually know what constituted normal for a baby’s health. None of our friends had children yet, and we lived hours (in my case) and states (in his) away from our immediate families.

My thinking on leaving the world of work, then, was your typical kid vs. job reasoning: my career could wait a few years, but AG would never be this young again. When my daughter is grown and I am older, I thought, wouldn’t I miss this time with her? Probably yes, I thought, and although Mr. Asthma Mom and I did not have much money but had acquired plenty of debt while putting ourselves through college, what we did have was the freedom to live on just his salary. One benefit of having children when you’re young and poor – not that I’m advocating it unless you are a glutton for financial punishment and willing to bear the loneliness of young parenthood in a world that’s moved on to thirtysomething pregnancies, primarily – is that you’re not already locked into a huge mortgage or a hefty car payment chosen when you were single, career-minded, and able to spend freely without budgeting much. (Also, I spent a few hours each weekend tutoring and doing some freelance proofreading work to bring in some extra income, Mr. Asthma Mom worked crazy hard to increase his earning power during those early years, and Mr. and Mrs. Asthma Mom-In-Law very graciously paid off the largest student loan in our past, but those are all separate stories.)

Approximately one year and a few misdiagnosed severe flares later, the pediatrician finally figured out that AG had asthma and prescribed nebulizer treatments of albuterol and Pulmicort. And I discovered I was pregnant (I wanted to be) with the embryo that would become AG’s Steadfast Sidekick. Which is key to this particular story in the sense that even after diagnosis, I remained a stay-at-home parent for reasons other than my daughter’s lung health. Full-time care for two children is cost prohibitive, for one. The other reason? I didn’t want to go back to work when AG would attend preschool, as originally planned, because that would require putting her sister in daycare as a newborn.

So I made the decision before giving birth to the Sidekick in December 2001, but by then it was obvious AG’s health remained too problematic for preschool, anyway. We know this, because we actually tried to put her there a few hours each day. Several times, we tried preschool, and she ended up in emergency care – despite home nebulizer treatments – each time. Her symptoms and flares worsened as her baby sister grew, and the whole situation led to my homeschooling AG for kindergarten after her particularly vicious bout with pneumonia and a weeklong hospital stay on oxygen which, frankly, probably scared me more than her.

Now fast-forward to August 2005. A good position opened up for Mr. Asthma Mom in north Florida, along the Gulf Coast. Where I had lived for many years. Where Mr. Asthma Mom and I went to college, married, and had AG. Where we moved away from 6 years before, when AG was just two months-old.

Moving back made sense to us for a couple of reasons. My mother lived and taught elementary school there, and I felt confident enough in AG’s improved health and now-controlled asthma to stop homeschooling and start sending her to public school for the first time. I felt even better knowing she could attend her grandma’s school.

Plus, we were tired. Really bone-deep tired and weary from the physical and emotional costs of having a baby just out of college, moving 8 hours across the state with a two month-old, and nursing that child through some pretty serious health problems while adding a second child to our young family. Our move back to the sleepy, Southern town where much of my family lived appealed to that part of us that ached for life to be just a teeny bit easier.

I hesitate to call that move a mistake since we probably would’ve never ended up here in Denver had we not gone back to the Florida Panhandle first, but living there forced my return to that elusive career path several steps backward. Picture it: AG started first grade and thrived, her healthy 3 year-old sister could go to preschool, and I felt beyond ready to return to a full-time position.

Except this tiny town had no openings in a decent (read: clean, not scary) preschool for the Steadfast Sidekick.

Except an opening wouldn’t have mattered, anyway, because this place also had no jobs.

I could therefore accept work as a cashier at Target or in some similar capacity – honest jobs, yes, but a move that, piggybacked onto my years as a stay-at-home mom, would do me no resume favors, or continue to stay home and start freelancing. So I did 3 things:

1. I started freelance writing.
2. I started this blog.
3. I started complaining to Mr. Asthma Mom, daily, that we needed to move – yes, again – only this time to a place where we could:

1. Make a permanent home.
2. Give our children better opportunities.
3. Help me return to my career full-time, finally.

Now fast-forward one last time:

1. I’m now only 33 years-old, but the days of pregnancy, babyhood, and raising very small children are behind me.
2. I live in a wondrous, beautiful place with many more places to work and better pay at those places.
3. AG and the Steadfast Sidekick both attend school full-time now (entering fifth and second grades in August), limiting our daycare costs to summers only.
4. Mr. and Mrs. Asthma-Mom-In-Law live here, so we have family back-up for kid emergencies.

But:

1. The economy tanked.
2. Many companies are in the middle of a hiring freeze.
3. Those that are hiring are doing so internally. Not one, but three separate jobs that I am qualified and/or well-suited for have gone to in-house employees and/or temps recently, and I know one of those positions went to someone underqualified for the work. Which is fine, and even understandable. I would hang onto my job, too, if I had one right now, and as an employee I would certainly hope my company consider advancing me rather than hiring from outside. Of course I understand.

However and therefore:

1. I’m still freelancing.
2. At the same time, I’m conducting a job search that is hugely time-intensive and could drag out for as long as this recession does.
3. And the girls’ school just let out for the summer.

It’s a ridiculous situation, no?

Or maybe it’s only ridiculous if you know me in real life. I spent years proofreading, polishing, and teaching English grammar at my university, and I’ve worked in everything from desktop publishing to radio sales and promotions to Internet writing, research, and editing in “real life.” And I want to work full-time again. I miss it. Yes, we have two kids headed to college in 8 and 11 years, respectively, but more than financial need even is my need/desire to get back to the life and plans put on hold by an unexpected baby and her unexpected health problems in my twenties.

But there’s no accounting for a terrible economic climate, and this recession isn’t personal even though it sure feels that way lately.

My point?
(Yes! I actually have one.)

You may have noticed a severe reduction in posts here at the Blog of Inferior Breathing lately. Their current once-a-week frequency will continue for the near future because right now and for all those reasons listed above, my job search takes priority. Believe me, I’m hoping it won’t last long.

Filed under: My Asthma Girl & Me