But the comments hurt. They delegitimized the way of life I had chosen. They filled me with anger, and they rocked my confidence.

As told to Leah Gebber

Kiwi, pineapple, tomato, basil … mingled flavors that tell of the wonderful relief I had that crazy evening. The combination tasted strange, repulsive even, but to me it is the triumphant taste of finally letting go of all the voices that soured my life.

When I made the decision not to work, it was simple. Technical. We had three little kids — a set of twins and a baby — and to spend three-quarters of my wages on childcare, cleaning help, and other work-related expenses, didn't make sense. I handed in my notice, packed up the photos from my desk, and gave away my uncomfortable work suits to the local charity store. Whoopee!

No more seven-fifteen busses. No more guilt at leaving my three little ones. No more would my husband arrive home from work to an upside-down house and a request from me that he gets right back into the car and go buy takeout. Finally, I had joined the ranks of that rare breed: the non-working mother.

Okay, so the sheen wears off after a while. You start to miss the camaraderie of the office; the satisfaction of a job well done (at home, no one compliments you on cleaning out the fridge or ironing what seems like a thousand white shirts). Even the suits started to seem more appealing — at least once in a while.

But even though it was draining taking care of my little ones, I was happy. I'd made the right decision for me, for my marriage, and for my kids. And that satisfaction propelled me right through the diapers and dishes.

What I hadn't reckoned on though, was the reaction of everyone around me. At first, I was barely aware of the judgments people were passing on me and my life. They infiltrated gradually.

It's okay for her, she doesn't work.

What does she do with her time, anyway?

They really must be rolling. We could never afford to make that decision.

My husband's learning is so important, I would sacrifice anything.

She must be really bored.

Who can afford one income? I bet they don't pay full tuition. We pride ourselves on paying full tuition. And then there are all the therapies …

The grocery store, the park, a neighbor's bar mitzvah … It seemed that everywhere I went people were peering into the window of our home, judging us.

“Ignore them,” my husband told me repeatedly. “Just ignore them.”

But the comments hurt. They delegitimized the way of life I had chosen. They filled me with anger, and they rocked my confidence.

Since when did women have to work to prove themselves? My mother didn't work until my youngest brother was in high school! My grandmother never worked, and her grandmother probably didn't either. Working was a new trend. And just because everyone I knew was a teacher or accountant or a therapist, or even an engineer or a lawyer or a pharmacist, I didn't have to buy into their lifestyles.

And, I kept telling myself, just because they were so judgmental didn't give me the right to criticize them. I was determined not to put on a superiority complex even in my head — you know how it goes: well, my kids get more attention, my home is better run, my husband has a hot, nutritious meal on the table and a wife who is not a shmatte.… No! I didn't have to stoop to that.