Yesterday, at 35 weeks and 3 days pregnant, I made the executive decision to quit working.
It was getting ridiculous—and I realize now how much of that pressure came from my own self-image and negative self-talk. All around me, I saw American women working until their delivery dates (or at least until 37–38 weeks). So, I convinced myself, If they can do it, why can’t I?
Wrong.
The Reality of My Pregnancy
I’ve always said no two pregnancies are the same—not even for the same woman. My first and second trimesters were relatively smooth, so I assumed the third would be “a bit uncomfortable.” I had no idea how bad it could get.
Yes, I’ve gained a significant amount of weight, but that doesn’t bother me. It’s everything else that’s turned daily life into a chore:
- Pelvic pain since the baby turned head-down, starting on one side and now radiating everywhere.
- Shortness of breath that hasn’t let up since my pregnancy test turned positive.
- Back pain so severe I’ve joked about needing an epidural just for that.
- Braxton Hicks contractions since 21 weeks—relentless and unmistakable.
- Swollen feet that make standing up alone excruciating.
I’ve become a perpetual wobbler, and frankly, it’s embarrassing.
The Mental Battle
Giving myself permission to stop working meant silencing the voices in my head. The voices that kept on saying things like:
- “Your job isn’t actually that hard. I mean, all you do is sit for 10 hours essentially”
- “The extra money would be nice.”
- “Other people do this just fine and make it to the end.”
Here’s the truth: I don’t see myself as a “baby girl,” but I do see others as deserving of that grace. Sound silly? Stay with me.
Meeting my husband a few years ago re-engineered my mindset—for the first time, finally for the first time in my life I felt deserving of nice things, of the sacrifices of others, and the comforts of life. However, having to go through this experience taught me that I’d only completed Chapter 1 of that lesson and there were many more layers of learning to dig through. Truly, if another woman near me quit work at 6 weeks pregnant, I’d never question it. I would think to myself that it makes sense and she deserves to be able to rest, after all, she was building and carrying a whole human being. So why then did I never consider that for myself. Why was I hesitating when:
- We had more than enough savings so many was not the problem
- I was in acute physical pain?
- My doctor was ready and willing to write me off work?
The Gift of Solo Time
It’s been one day since I left work, and let me tell you—sleep hits differently when there’s no alarm looming.
What finally sealed the deal? Realizing this is my last solo time ever. Even in future pregnancies (where I’ll absolutely take time off earlier), it won’t be the same. This is my time to:
- Reconnect with my interests
- Write more
- Lounge guilt-free
- Make solo donut runs
- Cook (or not)
- Nest on my own terms
- Call and catch up with friends and family when I get bored
It’s all about me—and it’ll never be like this again even in my next pregnancy where I have absolutely every intention to quit work between 35-36 weeks again.
Choosing Kindness
I would like to say I don’t know why it took me so long to get here but I actually do know why it took me so long to quit. Regardless from now on, I’m choosing kindness—to myself. In just these few hours at home, I’ve realized something surprising: I’m no longer in a rush for the baby to arrive. I’m okay with him taking his time. Without perpetual pain, I can finally enjoy this in-between space—and that means I’ll enjoy his presence even more.