“. . . so we’re going to have to let you go.”
I heard the words as they came out of the human resource rep’s mouth but somehow the connection between what I heard and what actually was going on didn’t register.
Was I just laid off?
I felt nausea. I couldn’t determine if it was from the conversation or from being in my seventh month of pregnancy.
I’m laid off.
“…we had to make tough decisions. You aren’t the only person affected.” There was a blasé wave of her hand. I stared at the black lip liner surrounding her mouth.
“We wanted to offer some assistance in your job search by way of leads.” She seemed rehearsed.
Without thinking, I said, “Who’s going to hire me? I’m 7 months pregnant!”
There was an awkward silence.
Oh gawd did I just have an emotional outburst? Pull it together, girl.
I was early in my marriage, recently purchased a house, had a toddler at home with another baby on the way.
There were about a billion thoughts going through my mind: how are we going to pay for the baby’s delivery?… We just bought a house… we have little savings left!… I’m definitely breast-feeding now… How would I tell my husband?… What’s he going think?… Why am I being laid off? Can I sue them?
“Do you have any questions?” She interrupted my thoughts.
“Huh?” I responded, still somewhat dazed.
“Questions?” she repeated impatiently.
No she wasn’t getting an attitude.
I couldn’t cry. I wanted to, but I couldn’t cry. I felt helpless and extremely tired suddenly. I thought, “God why is this happening to me? Why now?”
This happened about 6 years ago and for some reason it’s been on my mind lately. The resentment and anger I felt toward the company; the confusion and disconnect I felt that existed between me and God; the shame and stupidity I felt toward myself for not seeing “it” coming. . . it was all overwhelming. I’m sure the pregnancy hormones didn’t help either. By the time I was well into my ninth month of pregnancy, about to be tenth month (yes I was 43weeks when I delivered!), I finally had stopped trying to do things my way and surrendered to the will of God. Keep reading, I’m not pulling out the Bible and dusting off my hymnal. I’m just being real with you.
The last three months of my pregnancy were spent trying to find a job that would hire freelance or a telecommute consultant. My family suffered because I was trying to do things my way, not God’s way. I didn’t trust my instinct anymore. I reacted. I didn’t listen to my higher self. I operated in a hurt mode.
The one thing that got me through that difficult period was four little words: God Knows My Name. It just hit me one day. Pow. God Knows My Name.
It was for me an affirmation and an acknowledgement that I mattered; that my connection to a higher power was not severed. God knew my pain. God knew my confusion. God knew all about my worries.
I was in a highly stressful work environment. I worked with an impossible client. I wasn’t getting paid what I was worth. And the pregnancy was taking a toll on me physically. I needed a break. I just couldn’t give it to myself. I didn’t know how.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the universe always gives you what you need when you need it.