Chasing Superwoman by Susan DiMickele

and me” classes, keep them away from sick kids, and screen their playdates. (Ok, I’m probably exaggerating a bit, and I would certainly skip the “mommy and me” classes, but you get the point.) Most days I feel as if my best hours go to client meetings, conference calls, and court appearances. Devoted Mommy is exhausted by the end of the day, and Doug and the kids are stuck with my leftovers. What’s wrong with this picture?
    I don’t have the answers. And I’m always leery when someone tells me she has it all figured out. I just know that it never gets easier. It’s just not natural for a mother to give up control. As my kids get older, I think they need me more, not less. It’s one thing to delegate nap schedules and diapers. But as they get older, it’s going to get harder to delegate homework projects, the Internet, video games, peer pressure, and after-school activities. I’m going to need to install a hidden camera just to monitor my teenagers from the office. So as I pull out of the driveway each day, I try to remember that God is in control—not me—and I ask Him to keep the children in His care until we are safely united again. And I cherish the support of other mothers who encourage me every step of the way.
    Lessons from Laura
    My niece, Level-Headed Laura, is one of those mothers. She is always sending me encouraging notes about being a passionate mother while having a career. I recently got to watch Laura go through the struggle of returning to work after birthing her second child, Harrison. My heart goes out to her as I watch her juggle it all with grace and confidence. It’s never easy. I always save her notes. This is one of my favorites:
    I really appreciate the way that you were so real and straightforward with me at Grandma’s about how it is HARD to leave your kids, even when you enjoy your job and know it is valuable too. It is so refreshing to hear someone just say it. Often, I feel like my working-mom friends want to hide that they cry when they leave in the morning. Anyway, I wanted you to know that you made me feel so much better knowing that I am not insane for enjoying my work and wanting to be home, too. And it also made me feel liberated to cry in the morning and then be okay in the afternoon.
    Level-Headed Laura, ten years my junior, has always been more like my younger sister than my niece. Just after she and Cole got married (and started to think about having children and balancing her career as a teacher) she would ask me, “Aunt Susie, how do you do it?” I’d give her my standard response, but also explain it’s not easy.
    We were all elated to find out that Laura was expecting. I waited with eager anticipation to watch Firstborn Sister be the first to have a grandchild of her own.
    After Laura’s first ultrasound, we knew things were not going to unfold as planned. On a cold Thanksgiving Day we will never forget, we gathered around the table and cried and prayed as Laura and Cole explained to us that their daughter was going to have some special needs.
    As Laura’s ninth month approached, the doctors were amazed at the baby’s incredible strength, despite her rare medical condition. Laura carried her for nine full months, and on Easter morning, Aubrey Rose was born into the arms of Jesus. Rose, a family name, taken from our grandma, Rose D’Ercole, symbolized the great determination and passion of the women in our family. Although Laura was physically and emotionally drained, she returned to work shortly after Aubrey’s passing just to say good-bye to her students.
    She could have ridden out her sick leave. Certainly she had every right to say, “Hey, I’m recovering from losing my firstborn, not to mention childbirth. I need some time alone, and I’ll see you all next year.” Everyone would have understood. Instead she wanted closure. She could have pushed people away. Instead