Earlier this week, I spent nearly three hours on the phone and online attempting to consolidate my student loans. Surprisingly, the experience was better than I anticipated. The customer service representative was friendly and genuinely helpful, making the application process a breeze.
However, as I hung up, I felt a wave of relief mixed with a heavy dose of despair. It’s 2017, which means it’s been a decade since I tossed my cap in the air at graduation. Ten years is a long time, and here I am still staring down $20,000 in student loans. Sure, part of that is from my master’s degree, though most of it was covered by my partner’s job benefits.
Yet, the burden of that debt is overwhelming. What’s even heavier? The guilt of being a stay-at-home mom while feeling like I’m not contributing financially to tackle these loans.
My partner is an incredible, selfless provider. When I admitted my guilt about the consolidation process, he reassured me, saying, “I’ve always taken care of you, and I’ll continue to do so.” At that moment, my gratitude swelled, competing with my guilt over the fact that he’s footing the bill for degrees I’m not actively using.
I worked tirelessly to gather every scholarship I could find to fund my private education. I saved up for a year after high school, aced several CLEP tests to cut tuition costs, maintained stellar grades to earn the Honor’s scholarship, and fought my way into a competitive RA program that granted me room and board. And still, I had to take out loans.
I also fell in love and got married young. Ten years ago, I unexpectedly found myself pregnant with twins while walking across the graduation stage. I had planned a career in teaching, and when my twins were just 15 months old, I went to grad school and earned my MA, graduating with a 3.9 GPA in two years. I spent over five years as an adjunct professor, but I quit last year because juggling motherhood and work became too overwhelming.
Society often tells women they can achieve anything, but every choice—good or bad—comes with its consequences. Reflecting on my life over the past decade, I can’t help but ask, “Was it worth it?” I’ve never defaulted on my loans, and I’m not interested in pestering the government for student loan forgiveness on degrees I voluntarily pursued.
But the question runs deeper: Am I worth it? Now that I have two costly degrees that feel nearly worthless because I chose to focus on being a stay-at-home mom? Now that I’ve loaded my partner with thousands of dollars of my debt?
When my guilt veers too close to regret, I remind myself of the wisdom my grandmother imparted when I was a child. When I shared my dream of becoming a mom like her, she advised, “It’s wonderful to be a mom. But always get an education. A woman needs a way to support herself because you never know what life will throw your way. No one can ever take your education from you.”
That advice has stuck with me, even as my student loan guilt eats away at my conscience. I’m learning to accept my choices: my university decision, the loans I took, marrying young, embracing my role as a mother, and stepping back from work when it became too much.
Not everyone has the luxury of these choices. I remain humbled and grateful for the privileges in my life. Yet, sometimes, those choices feel so complicated and financially and emotionally heavy. I have regrets, sure, but wishing I had made different decisions doesn’t change my current responsibilities. One thing I know for certain is that I wouldn’t trade my education for anything. It holds value not because I’m using it to earn money, but because it enriches me as a person.
I think about my son, who has autism, ADHD, and learning disabilities. I don’t advocate for his education based on his potential future earnings; I do it because he is valuable as an individual, and investing in his education is fundamentally good and worthwhile.
Education always enhances a person; it never detracts from them. And while my education still requires a hefty monthly payment from my partner’s paycheck (bless that man; I am endlessly grateful for him), it can never be taken away from me. It was the right choice, and I hope that one day, when my children need me less, I can leverage my education to give back and finally pay off those pesky student loans once and for all.
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Summary:
This article narrates the experience of a stay-at-home mom struggling with substantial student loan debt while expressing gratitude for her partner’s support. It reflects on the choices made throughout her educational journey and motherhood, emphasizing the enduring value of education and personal fulfillment. Despite the financial burden, she champions the importance of advocating for her child’s education and recognizes the complexity of life choices.