Motherhood Changed the Course of My Life


This post first appeared last week on BlogHer as My Career Left No Room for Motherhood; Now I Advocate for Working Moms and is reposted here with permission. It was then featured on PRI’s The World series Across Womens Lives with a great sidebar featuring the Mom-mentum’s Declaration of Mothers’ Rights.  Now it comes to rest here on my home blog to tell you how I came to be Your (Wo)Man in Washington….

One day a woman walked into her bank. She was on her way to the office, so she was in a suit, heels, and carried a briefcase. She’d taken no more than five steps when a bank employee graciously stepped up and asked what she needed that day and how he could help. Another smiling, helpful staffer was only a few steps behind him.

Woman with baby bottle in office, Image Credit: Shutterstock
The next day that same woman walking into the same bank. This time she was between the child care center and the pediatrician’s office, with a baby in one arm and a four-year-old clinging to the other. She was in sneakers, shorts, and had a diaper bag slung over one shoulder. No one took any notice. Same woman, same income, same bank account, but no helpful bank staffer offering assistance.

That woman was me. That’s when I realized that motherhood had fundamentally changed the way people perceived me. When you look like you make money, the world takes note. When you look like you make little people, the world shrugs. I thought I could educate myself out of the gender gap, and avoid the stinging slap of discrimination by excelling in the traditionally male occupation of law. Boy oh boy, was I wrong.

I had made the transition to working mother of one child with a manageable amount of upheaval. Once the necessary adjustments were in place it worked sort of consistently, most of the time. Everybody was fairly happy – me, the child, my spouse, my boss.

But the second child – that was another story. That baby didn’t just double the pace of my life, oh no. Something on a more exponential dimension had happened. Running the house, running the kids, running my practice, it was all running me into the ground. (Maybe my dedication to breastfeeding, and making my own baby food rather than using the store bought kind, were contributing factors. But hey, I had standards.)

My husband’s life escaped the whole rearrangement mine had undergone. After the birth, he’d gone back to work. His schedule was bursting and unpredictable, and he was never home until well after dinner. So, it was up to me to pack up the kids and get us all out of the house, drive to two different child centers, and get to the office on time. Eight hours later, I’d fly out of the office, taking home work that would never get done, make two stops to collect two children, do the dinner, bath, bed routine, including breastfeeding the baby and reading to the four year old. It was wonderful. It was impossible. After 6 months I was done. Or done in.

Before I resigned, I steeled myself for the difficult conversation with my boss. Even so, I found myself weeping all over the place, apologizing for my ineptitude, my utter lack of organization, my inability to conduct all facets of my life like a perfectly balanced perpetual motion machine. I left that office dragging my shame and failure behind me in total defeat.

Now with only one income, we couldn’t afford the mortgage. We sold the house and moved. I told myself that I had “opted out”, only it didn’t feel that way. It felt like the attitudes towards me and expectations of me had somehow conspired to push, shove, and elbow me out. I wasn’t aware that I was making a choice, or even had a choice – I could either be a mother or be a worker but I couldn’t be both. I shouldn’t presume to be both. I had no business being both. I just surrendered to a culture stronger than myself that said “Either you work as if you have no children, or you raise your children and dare not work. There is no middle ground.” I surrendered.

Years have passed, the children are older, and I know more now. I know that there was nothing wrong with me. I wasn’t incompetent or disorganized. No one could have single-handedly raised two children, run a home, and worked the hours expected at my firm. Not even with a husband and two child care centers, no one could do all that. I read Ann Crittenden’s The Price of Motherhood. I took advantage of living in Washington DC and went to congressional briefings hosted by the Institute for Women’s Policay Research, National Women’s Law Center, Center for American Progress and National Partnership for Women and Families. After thoroughly educating myself, I went to work as a public policy analyst at Mom-mentum, the non-profit that educates, empowers and inspires mothers.

Now I put the responsibility where it belongs:

  • On a culture which regards women as the superior family caregiver, but makes it all but impossible to have meaningful work at the same time.
  • On a society which expects men to do exclusively paid work, in inflexible workplaces where no family obligation is acknowledged.
  • On a political system designed by men and for men, content to waste the full range of talents and abilities that all its citizens possess, men and women, all of whom can earn a living and care for family, and have to, at the same time.

I’m not the only woman this has happened to. There is a nation full of women just like me, and many more forced into even worse “choices,” some that have to be made on a daily basis…

…and we vote.

‘Til next time,

Your (Wo)Man in Washington


  • A brilliant perspective on the lack of a work-life balance for mothers who choose to work. One side of the work -life equation has to give in/up. I worked part-time till my daughter was 11 and even then my career was set back. Paradoxically, mothers who stay at home are saving the state a whole amount of dosh by turning childcare into a private service conducted within the confines of the home but it still receives no recognition.