This title highlights the challenges faced by women who are navigating the complexities of career aspirations while preparing for motherhood. It emphasizes the struggle to balance professional goals with the demands of pregnancy and family life.
I’ve managed pregnant women before. Long before I was pregnant myself, I remember thinking, “It really can’t be that bad.” Oh, how wrong I was. Pregnancy isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience—it’s incredibly personal. And it’s not just the physical changes; external factors play a huge role in shaping your mental resilience during this time.
Now, here I am, a little over 38 weeks pregnant, having been on maternity leave for about a week and a half. For the first time in months, I’m rediscovering what it feels like to breathe, to focus solely on myself and my household. It’s like unearthing a part of myself I almost forgot existed.
I hesitated to write about pregnancy in the workplace because it’s such a layered, vulnerable topic. But as I reflect on my journey, I feel compelled to share my experience—the good, the bad, and the brutally honest truths.
When I got pregnant, my career was on fire. I was thriving, even earning a promotion during my first trimester before I shared the news. Yet, the moment my pregnancy became public knowledge, it felt like a switch flipped. Dynamics shifted, especially with my predominantly male colleagues. It wasn’t overt, but it was palpable—a subtle tension, an undercurrent of doubt about my capability.
Even as I faced pregnancy complications, my goals and standards for work didn’t waver. But here’s the thing: there’s no reserve of extra empathy waiting for you when you’re pregnant. If anything, it felt like expectations only intensified. And while I didn’t want to be treated differently, I certainly didn’t expect to feel as though I had to prove myself more during a time when my body and mind were stretched so thin.
One moment stands out vividly. In my second trimester, I nearly passed out on the manufacturing floor. I’d eaten well and stayed hydrated, and yet my blood pressure had other plans. That episode marked the beginning of a cautious shift in how I approached my work. For my baby’s safety and my own, I had to take things slower. But the mental toll was immense—constantly second-guessing myself, worrying about what others might be thinking. Was I being perceived as weak? Uncommitted? The internal struggle between prioritizing my health and maintaining professional respect was exhausting.
By the time I reached the third trimester, I had made the decision to start maternity leave as early as possible. I might not have felt the need if I had a desk job. But it wasn’t a choice in the manufacturing world—it was a necessity. And yet, that decision came at a cost: precious bonding time with my baby once they’re born. The harsh reality is that we live in a system that forces women to choose, over and over again, between their careers and their families.
Why is it always a choice? Why does society make it feel impossible to truly have both?
Now, as I approach motherhood, the questions keep swirling. How do I return to work—physically, mentally, emotionally—while being the present and loving mom I want to be? How do I reconcile the demands of corporate America with the demands of my heart?
This new chapter has changed me profoundly. It’s given me a lens I didn’t have before, one that makes me reevaluate not just my career but the broader culture we operate in. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about what’s next. Will I be able to pick up where I left off? Will my ambitions and aspirations survive the seismic shift of becoming a parent?
The truth is, I don’t have all the answers. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe the first step is acknowledging that this system isn’t built for working moms—and finding the courage to challenge it, one story at a time.