Life takes some unexpected turns. If we knew how things would turn out, perhaps we would take more risks. Not knowing, we often have to just act on faith.
Several years ago, in a foreign land, I was handed a beautiful 10 month old baby and in an instant, I became a mom. She had beautiful smile and coal black hair and a laugh that would melt the coldest of hearts.
Almost immediately I could sense that within this 18-pound powerhouse of a pure JOY, was a broken body. It is as if she had a stroke, I thought to myself our second morning together, while I was watching her play on the hotel’s kingsized bed. She could use her right hand and arm but she didn’t even acknowledge her left arm or hand. I quickly dismissed the thought because babies don’t have strokes, do they?
A month later, home and adjusting again to my time zone, I noticed that my happy, playful girl still ignored the left side of her body. Always. Her pediatrician surely must have known what was going on, but instead of telling me, she referred us to a physiatrist. I had never even heard that term before. So I looked it up:
Physiatrists treat a wide variety of medical conditions affecting the brain, spinal cord, nerves, bones, joints, ligaments, muscles, and tendons. (Source: aapmr.org)
It took the physiatrist all of about 3 minutes to diagnose my baby: left hemiplegia. She HAD had a stroke! Probably in utero, but we’ll never know for sure.
The next several years were filled with occupational and physical therapy sessions. She also had developmental therapy and we took up horseback riding to improve her balance. She took up dance and Tae Kwon Do. All of these activities not only strengthened her body, but were also a great outlet for my little ball of energy.
Life went on. I worked, she went to school and we filled our free time with therapy and the types of activities that many families of school age children enjoy. Friends would tell me that she was the happiest person they had ever met. She was happy! And so was I. I worked for a wonderful boss who allowed me to fit work in around my daughter’s grueling therapy schedule.
Until one day when I was transferred to another department.
I was told almost immediately that I could no longer work early or late to make up for an hour here and there for therapy. I was dumbfounded. As a data analyst I could literally work from anywhere at any time. It should have mattered not. For every hour I took during the day to take my daughter to therapy, I would make it up by working two hours. I was so grateful for the flexibility. Now I was being told that my job was 8:30 to 5. No wiggle room. No exceptions. The Human Resources Department was of no help. According to them, the boss ruled.
So for six months I worked 8:30-5 and put in the required 37.5 hours per week instead of my previous average of 52 hours per week. My daughter’s therapists gave us exercises we could do at home, because they were completely booked on Saturdays and did not offer evening hours. Yet, I could see her backsliding due to not having the equipment that the therapists used.
I took my vacation time and reassessed the situation. During that time, we went back to therapy and I knew immediately that I had to find a way to keep her in that routine. The thought of finding a new job did not appeal to me; I knew it would be impossible to start a new job asking the employer to give me the flexibility I needed.
I had dabbled previously with various ways to make a few extra dollars online and I had found success with creating and selling websites. I thought that if I were to do this full time, perhaps I could make enough for us to get by on. So I returned from my vacation and promptly put in my two week’s notice.
That was in April 2010. I have never looked back. My daughter is now a teen and is thriving in high school. In addition to selling websites, I also began writing Kindle books and have offered consulting services to other entrepreneurs. I also help small businesses with their online marketing.
Creating a business is not for the faint of heart, but I took a leap of faith because I felt that I had no choice. Ensuring that my daughter was able to get what she needed to grow into a healthy, confident and successful adult was my number one priority.
Interestingly, over the past six years, all of my colleagues were eventually laid off. I surely would have been, also. By giving up the security of my 9-5, I actually created greater security and income. My business is currently paying me more than double what I would have been making had I stayed in that position. And there is no greater benefit to me than having the flexibility that working for myself affords.
My baby, her stroke and my ruthless boss lead to one of the greatest of all blessings — freedom to live exactly as I choose.