Coming back to work after parental leave
“Is it the right time?”, “Am I going to regret it?”, “Am I a good mom?”, “Is it the right decision?” — My mind at 2 AM while I breastfed my daughter
So for those who don’t know me, I am Carol, a Brazilian living in Canada, Engineering Software Manager at Routific and mom of an awesome and smart 3-month baby called Sophie.
Identifying myself as a mom is still weird for me, especially after taking 2 years of therapy to understand who I was besides the “work Carol” persona. Pregnancy broke me to pieces but was a wonderful mental process to meet the new me: the old Carol — a friend, puzzle lover, traveller (even if afraid of airplanes), and a feminist — with a new role, Sophie’s mom, but this is something for a next post.
My partner and I moved to Canada looking for better opportunities, which sadly Brazil couldn’t provide to us, and the main thing was safety. Of course, it wasn’t easy. We left behind our families, friends and our entire life. We missed several celebrations of their life major milestones. We had to offer online support instead of a hug and love in person during difficult moments, which we all know it’s not the same and hurts. This is a good reminder that everything comes with a price, and we couldn’t have it all.
All of this to express how I am grateful to live in a country where my partner and I can take up to 18 months of paid parental leave that we both can share. It’s amazing to have the power to chose when to come back to work or don’t, at all.
Before taking my parental leave, I was sure that I would stay out of work for at least 7 months. That was the plan, but having a baby showed me one more time that you can plan whatever you want, and things will always find a way. After staying 4 months at home, 1.5 months before the delivery and 2.5 after Sophie was born, I started having feelings for coming back, fighting myself on those thoughts, feeling like the “mom life wasn’t for me” and I was failing (wait! I will explain what that means in a moment).
I had this narrative in my head that “mom life” means giving up on most things to stay with my child, even if it would make me unhappy. Of course, I was trying to break that mindset by going out to run errands and have some “me time” during the week and in my head, that was enough to keep me happy. I couldn’t bear to accept I am missing work so much because my narrative screamed at me, proving that it would mean work was more important than my child, which is not true!
I grew up with both parents “working from home”. In the ’90s, that meant we didn’t have money to have an office space, so my parents’ small business ran from home. My old bedroom became their office space and would be filled with computers and printers. My dad was always picking up equipment or fixing problems on-site from customers/companies, and my mom would stay at home working hard, filling invoices, making purchases and dealing with the customers.
I have the best memories from building castles with my sheets tied to my wardrobe. While I played inside of it, my mom/dad would come from time to time to snuggle me and play for 10 or 15 minutes with me, giving me support when I had problems or needed to talk about my day. I knew they were there, and I felt safe.
It would be amazing if I stayed at home with Sophie for 18 months, but that would mean I would hit a pause in my career and miss some opportunities, leading me to think about work all the time and not being happy. Going back to work means I am going to miss some of her first-time milestones, but at the same time, I am privileged enough to work from home with flexible hours so that I can snuggle her on my coffee/water breaks. The time I am going to spend with her will be lesser than the first option, but the quality will be higher as I will be present at the moment and happy.
Most importantly, this is a personal choice. There isn’t a right or wrong, and it’s hard to accept that reality. Working moms are also full-time moms, and stay-at-home moms are working their a** off every day. Everyone is doing the best for their families and themselves, regardless of whatever years of sexism tried to impose on us. We all would LOVE if a decision that was one size fits all existed, but life taught me it isn’t like that, and again I can’t have it all.
When those thoughts try to haunt me again during the late-night feeding sessions, I remember my own experience and that everything will be fine.