When my daughter was born, I made a quiet promise to myself: One day, I’ll take time off from work just to be with her.
Not just a long weekend or a rushed summer vacation. I wanted unstructured, ordinary, everyday time—the kind of presence that doesn’t need a calendar invite.
But life, as it often does, got in the way.
I had a career I genuinely enjoyed. I was paid well, had a supportive team, and found meaning in the work. Yet I was always on call. Always thinking about the next deadline. Always feeling the undercurrent of stress that so many of us have normalized.
I told myself, just one more year—over and over again.
Until I couldn’t anymore.
As my daughter grew older, I began to feel the tug in my heart grow stronger. The early years were slipping through my fingers. Second grade was coming. Her world was expanding fast—and I wanted to be part of it in a deeper way.
“It was now or never.”
So after years of talking, dreaming, and saving, my husband and I made the decision we had been planning for: I would take a mini-retirement. We had built enough of a financial cushion to live on one income and our savings for a while, and it was time to use it.
I was scared, but I walked into my boss’s office and resigned.
She was surprised—I wasn’t unhappy or burned out in the traditional sense. I had a good thing going. But I explained that I needed a career break to be with my family. I wanted to reclaim my time as a mom, without squeezing it into evenings and weekends.
“I left work that day filled with emotion—scared, unsure, but at peace.”
I worried about the financial impact. About my identity. About what I would say when people asked me what I “did.”
But I also felt something else: peace.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t rushing. I wasn’t checking my phone constantly. I was just present. And that presence felt great.
The first few months were both beautiful and disorienting. I had worked my whole life. My days had always been packed, productive, and measurable. Suddenly, I was measuring time in school pickups, messy art projects, and quiet afternoons. When people asked me what I did for a living, I’d say, I’m a stay-at-home mom—and I’d stumble over it at first. But with time, I began to say it with more confidence.
Because the truth is: this is work too.
It’s meaningful, it’s demanding, and it’s full of joy.
Taking a mini-retirement wasn’t an escape. It was an intentional choice to step off the treadmill and live a little differently. It was a reset. A pause. A chance to breathe and reconnect with the life I didn’t want to miss. I didn’t want to look back and regret not spending this precious time with her. After the heartbreaking loss of our firstborn son, this dream became non-negotiable. I knew I had to find a way to make it happen and I had.
And while I didn’t know exactly what the future held, I did know this: I’ll never regret this time. It was now or never—and I chose now.
If you’re thinking about a mini-retirement, here’s what helped me:
- Start saving early and live below your means
- Talk with your partner and make a realistic budget
- Let go of perfection—there will always be uncertainty
- Remind yourself that your career will still be there, you’re young and can jump back in or even re-invent yourself
- Trust that time with your family is never wasted
What I Learned During My 2 Year Mini-Retirement
Taking a mini-retirement was one of the most transformative decisions I’ve ever made. Here are some of the lessons I learned along the way:
1. Time is wealth.
We often think of wealth in terms of money, but having time—real, unscheduled, slow-moving time—is a kind of luxury many of us overlook. I learned how much I had been missing by rushing from one thing to the next.
2. Identity is flexible.
For a while, I struggled with no longer being “productive” in the traditional sense. But I realized that being a mom, showing up emotionally, and creating a peaceful home is a powerful identity too.
3. Kids don’t need grand moments, they need you.
It wasn’t the trips or the big activities my daughter remembered most. It was the simple moments: walking to school together, eating lunch side by side, going to the library, planning playdates.
4. Life doesn’t fall apart when you step away.
This one surprised me. I thought taking a break would set me back, but instead, it gave me clarity. Work opportunities evolved. New ideas surfaced. My world didn’t shrink—it expanded.
5. It’s okay to want more than one version of life.
I loved being a professional, and I loved being a stay-at-home mom. Life is seasonal, and sometimes you need to let go of one thing to make room for another. That doesn’t mean you’re lost—it means you’re growing.
If you’re standing on the edge of a big decision like this, I won’t pretend it’s easy. But I will say: don’t ignore the whisper in your heart. Sometimes the biggest leaps bring the deepest rewards.