artificial insemination kit for humans
I began my first job the summer before I turned nine, working at a local farm picking berries. Each day, I would rise with the sun, ride my bike a mile, and spend the day harvesting. For every pint of raspberries I picked, I earned 25 cents, and by summer’s end, I had made over $200—enough to buy a significant amount of school clothes.
I received accolades from my boss and parents for bringing my own peanut butter and jelly sandwich to work, finishing it in under two minutes, and immediately getting back to picking. I craved that praise; it made me feel strong, valued, and somewhat extraordinary.
I stayed out in pouring rain or under scorching sun while other kids opted to go home, earning a $3 bonus each time I did. This set the stage for my work ethic; those around me viewed me as a diligent worker, so I felt compelled to uphold that image. I continued working throughout elementary school, picking berries in the summer and babysitting whenever the opportunity arose.
In high school, while my friends engaged in extracurricular activities, I worked after school. Mornings were spent in class, followed by bagging groceries six days a week, then home to tackle homework. On Saturdays, while everyone else relaxed, I was busy managing carts and loading them into customers’ cars from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. The accolades from others kept coming, and I disregarded my exhaustion.
After recovering from an appendectomy in 11th grade, I returned to work after just a week because I felt it was expected of me. No one explicitly told me this, but I realized I had shaped my identity around being a diligent worker, even when unwell or overwhelmed with schoolwork. I wondered: if I eased up, who would I become?
Upon graduating college and landing my first real job in the early ’90s, I quickly learned how well-conditioned I was for this environment. I worked in retail, rapidly becoming the youngest store manager in my district due to my long hours and unwavering attendance. I often went above and beyond without expecting extra pay because that behavior garnered recognition.
One holiday season, I kept my team at the store until 1:00 a.m. to tidy up after a hectic day, knowing I had to be back by 7:00 a.m. for early holiday hours. As my team began to tire around 10:30 p.m., I felt frustration. We would shift the entire store layout after closing, and I’d grab a slice of pizza, choking it down in under ten minutes to set a standard.
By 23, I was battling severe stomach issues and fatigue, yet the praise for my hard work continued. I was recognized and rewarded for my relentless dedication, which reinforced my behavior.
The same pattern followed at a recruiting firm where we were expected to work over 40 hours weekly, with only one week off annually. We were encouraged to socialize outside of work without pay, and though my boss labeled it optional, it was anything but. The underlying message was clear: if you weren’t living and breathing work, you were lazy and uncommitted.
After the events of 9/11, when I took the day off to process the tragedy, I was met with subtle disapproval from my boss. Later, when I expressed my desire to start a family and take time off, I was let go, despite the company’s lack of paid maternity leave. They offered six weeks off, unpaid, as per the law, which was accepted without question.
When I decided to pursue my own business, I faced skepticism. My father reminded me of the importance of a steady paycheck and health benefits, deeming anything else irresponsible. Generation X was raised in a time when taking sick days or mental health days was frowned upon. Those who came to work while ill were celebrated, while those who prioritized their well-being were labeled lazy.
After staying home with my children, I returned to the workforce with the same mindset. I worked daily, canceling plans for opportunities and neglecting vacations for over three years. Eventually, I started to struggle. My work quality declined, and I felt perpetually exhausted, often berating myself for not pushing harder.
I realized that sustaining this lifestyle was unsustainable if I wanted to produce quality work. It took time to unlearn the belief that working harder equated to being better. Then one day, I woke up and recognized that others were taking time off to recharge, leading to a more balanced life.
Scheduling my first vacation made me anxious; as a self-employed individual, time off meant no pay. Yet, my worry stemmed from feeling like a slacker for wanting to take a week off during a major holiday to spend with my kids. How twisted is that?
I want my children to understand that hard work does not mean sacrificing well-being or time for other important aspects of life. Life is about more than just the grind; showing up to work while sick or neglecting deserved time off holds no value.
For future generations, we need to challenge the notion that being overworked and mentally drained is the only path to success. We must normalize taking time off, valuing rest, and prioritizing health over income or hours worked.
I wish I had realized this sooner, but now I can lead by example for my kids, helping them avoid the workaholic trap that kept me grinding for too long.
For more insights on home insemination, check out this related blog post. If you’re exploring options for starting a family, Make A Mom is a great resource on this topic. You may also find this article about the IVF process helpful.
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