By Mrs. Esther Mukisa

“I’m afraid I have to resign.”

I croaked out the words as I fought back tears. I was trying to keep my emotions in check—I didn’t want to make things awkward for my boss, and I definitely didn’t want to wake the baby sleeping in my arms.

Photo: Mrs. Esther Mukisa

As I prepared to break the news to her over Zoom that afternoon, I had not expected it to be as hard as it turned out. I certainly didn’t anticipate the strong emotions that swept over me. After all, I had always known that this day would come.

While we were preparing to get married, my husband and I agreed that if God were to bless us with children, I would step back from full-time work outside the home and prioritize raising our children. We’d agreed upon this, based on our convictions about God’s design for family.

Yet even when I had always known and was convinced that this was God’s will for us, I hadn’t quite counted the emotional cost of this path. Leaving a corporate job with all its benefits, it hadn’t hit me yet. 

It seemed like a complete overhaul of my view of life and work as I had known it—and boy was I wrong!

Growing up, productivity had always been the measure of my worth. Like, why am I taking up space and using up oxygen if I am not contributing to society in some seen way? It’s something I’d constantly struggled with, and here I was now, facing a possible identity crisis by walking away from a world of clear and measurable KPIs, straight into the realm of “repetitive, mindless chores,” a.k.a. homemaking. 

I’d soon be so blessed with a healthy baby who wasn’t very demanding and a present, loving, supportive husband. Yet, even in those first few months, postpartum was quite disorienting—and it wasn’t just the hormones.

From seeing the disappointed, confused faces of people when they heard that I’d resigned my job, to trying to make sense of what could truly be meaningful about homemaking, to changing innumerable diapers—all this on just a few hours of constantly interrupted sleep—my!

And yet God was with me in that fire. I can say that with confidence now because there was no other way I could have made it out to this side. And while I use the word “fire” metaphorically, I want you to take the word for all it’s worth. It was fire-painful, blinding, and on many days all-consuming but ultimately, purifying.

God used that transition season to graciously bring to the surface all my erroneous views about life and work, in ways that made me appreciate his glorious designs more.

As someone who desperately longed to see womanhood and work through the lens of scripture, I had always been drawn to the Proverbs 31 woman, and so I took a closer look at that portrait of “the wife of noble character.” What I saw was a God-fearing, industrious woman who prioritized her family and, in so doing, enabled her entire household to thrive. Her work and enterprise were always home-loyal, always in the best interest of those closest to her, and never at the expense of their well-being.

It dawned on me then that actually, homemaking is the work that enables all my other work to thrive.

It’s never “just cooking” (or having meals cooked). It’s providing my family with the nutrition they need to fuel their bodies and minds. It’s not “just cleaning and organizing” (or having it done). It’s keeping at bay the chaos and disorganization that render things inefficient and people ineffective.

It’s not “just being with the baby”.” It’s paying attention to her cues, learning her, and giving her everything she needs to thrive spiritually, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I began to see that my primary, God-ordained calling was to be a wife and mother.

Doing this meant intentionally seeking ways to enrich the lives of those closest to me in all the ways that mattered, as I prioritized my work in the home, even when I eventually took any work outside the home. I knew caring at home was a high calling, one that required the best of my time and energy.

It definitely deserved and demanded more than a mindless or frantic bare minimum. Yet as I leaned into it, those closest to me began to thrive. And then, like a well-oiled machine doing what it was built for, I began to see myself thrive and grow in ways I had not previously imagined.

After my baby was eight months, I took on part-time work, but now, with a radically different view of work. God was helping me see my work in light of how He made me: as a female image-bearer carrying on the creation mandate in very specific ways and ordering my work priorities according to His design. CS Lewis, in the context of addressing disordered loves, once said, “(almost summarizing my experience) ‘When first things are put first, second things are not suppressed but increased.'”

By striving to prioritize and nurture my little girl and home, I have found that my eventual secondary work outside the home is both enriched and enriching.

I am first a child of God, then a wife, then a mother, then a teacher, and I am realizing that ordering my priorities rightly is what is increased. But not just a better wife or mother, but a better teacher. Indeed, choosing to prioritize career over caregiving would ultimately have been detrimental not just to those closest to me but to myself and everyone else around me.

“I’m so glad I could resign,” I recently thought to myself, teary-eyed as I held my now-nursing 13-month-old girl. She’d grown so fast over the past year. As I’ve watched her thrive and become,

I’m so grateful that I have a front-row seat to witness God’s work, not just in her life, but also in my own, on this journey of becoming “fully human,” which, I guess, in my case, would entail becoming fully woman.

The writer has featured in the Nakasero Faith and Work Cohort—whose 6-week sessions resume this Friday, 7th August. Commit here to attend.