Features

Second Thoughts on Having It All

This phenomenon, however, may be more characteristic of the West Side. At the Park Center at 35th Street near Madison, nearly all the mothers continue to work full-time. The same is true at Seton Day Care Center, located in the New York Foundling Hospital on Third Avenue at 68th Street, and at the Children's All Day School on 60th Street at Lexington Avenue, where all but one of approximately 80 mothers work fulltime.

But that doesn't mean these parents are immune to the pressures. "I think nearly every one of them would rather work three days a week than five," says Joy McCormack, director of Children's All Day. "But in addition to the economic impact that would have, I think they're afraid they'd lose control of their jobs. And the truth is, they probably would."

Those concerns haven't deterred other women. "I just felt this intense, instinctive, biological longing to be with my child," says Ellen Richards*, 32, an East Side psychiatrist who has a year-old baby. Ellen became pregnant not long after beginning a challenging job as the assistant director of an outpatient clinic in a Manhattan hospital. By then, she'd already invested ten years in her training: four in medical school, one as an intern, two in a specialty she later decided to leave, and three as a psychiatric resident. After the birth of her baby and a four-month maternity leave, Ellen returned to work, reluctant from the start to leave her child but eager to pursue her career. The conflict quickly became intolerable. "My heart would break every time I went to work," she says. "The only time I could work well was when I was busy. Otherwise, I just felt longing."

To be alone, one couple spent two nights in a hotel.

Last month, she decided to cut back to three days a week—retaining her hospital affiliation but giving up her management responsibilities. The choice was bittersweet. Economically, it meant a loss of at least $10,000 a year—perhaps as much as $20,000. The psychological impact was even stronger.

"Within days, I became a second-class citizen at the hospital," Ellen explains. "They moved me out of a big office into a horrible back office. My job had been 100 percent supervisory—and suddenly I was told I would have to see a number of hospital patients each week. I lost power and status in a job where I had a lot of room to rise. I am also convinced it will be hard to step back in after several years away." Still, Ellen feels she made the right decision. "I am definitely torn, but when I think about having a second kid—which I want to do—the handwriting's on the wall. I'll want to be home."

Betty Jane Jacobs, a Park Center mother working part-time, cut back shortly after the birth of her son, Joe, now three. She had been working full-time for Legal Aid. Now she works three days a week for her husband's firm. The other two days she spends with her son.

"I'm aware that I was lucky to even have the choice," says Betty Jane. "The hardest part of cutting back for me was giving up the ambition. I never wanted to be rich, but I did want to be famous. You'll never get famous doing law part-time." For now, Betty Jane is surprised at how happy she is with her decision. "The truth is, I don't miss what I gave up so much anymore. I find being Joe's mother to be very rewarding. It fills me up."

Betty Jane belongs to a group of working mothers that meets regularly. There are seven lawyers, and all but one of them have either cut back or switched into less demanding jobs since having children. Among them is Jennifer Patton*, who works for the state and had her second child last year. Now she works half-time. "I switched from a visible, high-pressure job into a much lower-profile, lower-pressure job in a different bureau," she says. "I've gone off the track, but at this point I don't care. I'm much happier now. I always felt women should not take it as a goal to be like men. Women have their nurturing side more in place. To me, the point of women's liberation is to be able to do what you want to do."

Some women, though, are more ambivalent about cutting back—and resentful that men don't seem to face the same dilemma. "At my hospital," says Mary Simms, "the women physicians who have children nearly all hold the less high-powered jobs. They've taken those jobs by choice—so they can be home—but the result is a huge difference in prestige and in income. I'm talking about $35,000 versus $200,000 in some cases. Because to build a private practice, you need to be available when more senior people don't want to work—and that means being on call all the time. Women with children are much more reluctant to do that than men."