A paradigm-shifting guide to career breaks after kids that rebrands stay-at-home parenthood for a new generation of women and families. "So, what do you When Neha Ruch had to answer this seemingly innocent question for the first time after leaving her corporate job to care for her infant son, she had a panic attack. She couldn’t find the words to describe this new stage of life she’d just embarked on, and the obvious answer--“stay-at-home" mother--didn’t feel right. She wasn’t a 1950s June Cleaver type, nor was she one of today’s updated stereotypes, such as the Craft Project Mom, Peppy Athleisure Mom, or Exhausted-in-Sweatpants Mom. How, then, was she to navigate this identity shift? Frustrated, Ruch embarked on a mission to rebrand the stay-at-home mother for a new generation of women who don’t want to leave their ambition behind just because they decide to pause or change their careers post-kids. Her online community, Mother Untitled (125K Instagram), has become the leading voice for women navigating this transition. For Ultimately, Ruch shows that you can become more yourself than ever in your Power Pause. You can discover what fills your cup and how to structure your days to feel good. And the journey begins now.

Autorentext

Neha Ruch

Zusammenfassung
**INSTANT USA TODAY BESTSELLER!

A paradigm-shifting guide to career breaks after kids that rebrands stay-at-home parenthood for a new generation of women and families.**

"So, what do you do?"

When Neha Ruch had to answer this seemingly innocent question for the first time after leaving her corporate job to care for her infant son, she drew a shameful blank. She couldn’t find the words to describe this new stage of life she’d just embarked on. She wasn’t a 1950s June Cleaver type, nor was she one of today’s updated stereotypes. (Craft Project Mom? Exhausted-in-Sweatpants Mom?) How, then, was she to navigate this identity shift?

Frustrated, Ruch embarked on a mission to rebrand the stay-at-home mother for a new generation of women who don’t want to leave their ambition behind just because they decide to pause or change their careers post-kids. Her online community has become the leading voice and resource for women navigating this transition, and in her first book, The Power Pause, Ruch addresses all the questions women face at this inflection point: Can I afford to pause? Who am I without my career identity? How do I find meaning in the role? And can I ever transition back to paid work?

With expert advice and diverse stories of stay-at-home mothers who buck every stereotype, as well as interactive exercises to help the reader plot a course for the long term, The Power Pause is an essential handbook for a new generation of caregivers.

Leseprobe
1

Discover Who You Are
Without a Job Title

False Belief

My self-worth and identity are centered in my career, so I'll be a "nobody" without it. Plus, parting with my paid work means giving up on my ambition.

New Narrative

I'm an ambitious and feminist woman embracing motherhood, and that fact will help me discover an identity even more remarkable than my job title. There is no such thing as "just a mom."

The first time I had to explain "what I do" after leaving my job, I felt naked.

To my credit, I was close to it: wearing a bathing suit with a burp cloth slung over my shoulder. My husband, Dan, and I were chatting with a couple who had camped out next to us at the pool club we'd joined for the summer. Do you ever meet someone and immediately think, Oh, she's exceptionally cool? Well, the woman holding her baby on the lounge chair next to mine exuded that quality, from her gauzy coverup to her wide-brimmed hat (a look I could never pull off). She seemed effortlessly comfortable, whereas I found the situation-it was my first time parenting in a bathing suit-sweaty and awkward. We chatted about the ages of our kids and the neighborhood. Then the dads took the kids to splash in the shallow end, and it was just us two on dry land.

"So, what do you do?" she asked.

It was an innocent question-the standard icebreaker of my life up to this point. Yet it caught me off guard because, for the first time, I couldn't give my usual answer: "I run brand strategy for a tech start-up." After business school, I'd come up with this response to instantly communicate a few impressive facts about myself. "Run" meant that I oversaw a department-shorthand for "I'm talented and was promoted to manager at a young age." In marketing, "brand strategy" also carries a panache and conveys creativity and analytical thinking. Finally, "tech start-up" implied I was plugged in and with the times.

When my first child, Bodie, was born, I'd downshifted my brand strategy work to two days per week. And now, six months later, I was hatching a plan to quit. Full stop. I'd done a lot of thinking about what that change would mean for my day-to-day life, but until that moment I hadn't really considered what it would mean for my identity and sense of self. Absent my job description, I realized I lacked a sentence to summarize my ambition and what made me unique. I had a hunch that this woman had a big career, and I wanted her to see that we were, in some way, the same.

I don't remember the exact stream of words that came out of my mouth as I attempted to answer her-probably phrases like "home with my son" and "used to be in marketing"-but I do recall that I spoke for a long time without actually saying anything. I felt the need to explain and defend my choice, so I talked about having lost interest in brand marketing and the shortage of resources allocated to my department and why I'd become disenchanted with my role. Basically, I offered a mouthful of business jargon without ever actually owning my decision to be home with my kid. In retrospect, I was justifying my choice not to this mom at the pool, who had done nothing but politely inquire about my work background, but to myself. Eventually I trailed off midsentence, redirecting the conversation to something about the babies, putting us both out of our awkward misery. It was clear I had work to do when it came to embracing my new identity as an at-home parent.

I was deep in thought as we loaded Bodie into his stroller and left the pool. Why couldn't I find the words to describe this new stage of life? Why did the most obvious answer-"stay-at-home mother"-feel wrong? And why did I care what a stranger thought of me, anyway?

Let Me Introduce Myself

My name is Neha Ruch, and I'm the mother to two wildly different kids-Bodie, age eight, and Lyla, age five. Our family resides on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, where we spend quite a bit of our free time shuttling between soccer practice and games, riding scooters in the park, doing craft projects at our dining table, and, like every other family, dealing with tantrums, picky eating, and ungodly early mornings. There are hard days, but I'm not ashamed to say that I love motherhood. This phase of my life has been my favorite so far.

That said, I never planned on leaving my job to raise my kids full-time.

For the decade I worked after college, I viewed my career as redemption for a few troubled teenage years when I underachieved academically (and overachieved socially) as an act of cultural rebellion and an attempt to fit into my predominantly white Massachusetts suburb. I immigrated to the United States from Mumbai at age four. Once I made it to college, I saw professional and educational accomplishment as a calling card, not to mention a way to honor my parents, who had risked a lot to give me opportunities I would not have had in India. I worked nights and weekends throughout my twenties, determined not to squander a single chance to rise up the ladder. My entrepreneur husband was …