The Gift of Working From Home—and the Reality of Being a Working Mother

Working from home is something I am deeply grateful for. There is a gift in being able to walk into another room and see my baby during the workday. There is a gift in hearing her little sounds from down the hall, holding her between meetings, feeding her without having to rush out of an office, and watching small moments of her childhood that I might otherwise miss. I know that many mothers do not have this opportunity, and I never want to take it for granted. But gratitude does not require me to pretend that working from home while raising a baby is easy. It isn't. In some ways, working from home has made me think more deeply about motherhood, careers, feminism, finances, family, and the choices women are told we are fortunate to have. Because having choices and having realistic choices are not always the same thing.

Working From Home Is Not the Same as Being a Stay-at-Home Mother

There is a romanticized image of working from home with a baby. Put the baby in a carrier. Open the laptop. Answer a few emails. Take a meeting while the baby peacefully naps against your chest. Finish a project during naptime. Somehow maintain your career, your household, your marriage, and your motherhood all at once. Maybe there are days when something close to that happens. But that is not what a full-time professional career actually looks like—especially when you are an executive. My job does not disappear because I am sitting in my house instead of an office. There are meetings to attend, decisions to make, problems to solve, deadlines to meet, employees who need support, conversations requiring confidentiality, and responsibilities that demand my complete attention. Leadership requires mental presence. And motherhood requires presence too. A baby does not understand that Mommy has an important meeting at 10:00. She doesn't know that I have a deadline. She doesn't care that someone is waiting for an email. If she is hungry, she is hungry. If she needs to be changed, she needs to be changed. If she is tired, uncomfortable, bored, teething, crying, or simply wants her mother, those needs do not conveniently arrange themselves around my calendar.

There are times when I can wear my baby while completing something simple. But "wear the baby and hope for the best" is not a childcare strategy for a woman trying to perform an executive-level job.

Imagine trying to lead an important meeting while simultaneously soothing a restless baby strapped to your chest. You are listening to someone speak while mentally calculating when the baby last ate. You're trying to formulate a thoughtful response while hoping she doesn't start crying. You're maintaining professionalism while bouncing slightly because you know movement keeps her calm. Your body is in the meeting. Your mind is in two worlds. That constant division of attention is exhausting.

The Mental Load Doesn't Clock Out

One of the things I understand differently now is how much invisible work motherhood requires. Even when I am working, part of my mind is still mothering. When did she last eat? Is she getting tired? Did I wash the bottles? Do we have enough diapers, wipes, and baby food? When is her next appointment? Has she had enough floor time today? Did I read to her? Have I spent enough time talking and playing with her? Then there is the household itself—laundry, dishes, cleaning, meals, appointments, errands, bills, and everything else required to keep a family functioning. And somewhere inside all of that, there is still a woman who has professional responsibilities and ambitions of her own. That is the part of modern motherhood I don't think we discuss honestly enough. Women were told we could do everything. We weren't always told what doing everything would cost.

My Complicated Feelings About Feminism and Motherhood

Motherhood has also changed the way I think about feminism. I am grateful for generations of women who fought so that women could receive an education, own property, build careers, earn their own money, enter professions previously closed to them, and have greater control over the direction of their lives. Those freedoms matter. I have benefited from them. But I also think parts of modern culture absorbed a narrower message: that paid employment represents women's liberation while domestic work and full-time motherhood represent something women needed to escape. That is where I struggle. The problem was never simply that women stayed home. The problem was that women often lacked meaningful choices, legal protections, financial security, respect, and independence. But correcting that injustice should never require us to diminish motherhood. There is tremendous value in the work performed inside a home. Raising children is work. Cooking is work.

Cleaning is work. Managing a household is work. Teaching children is work. Creating emotional stability for a family is work. None of those responsibilities suddenly become insignificant because there isn't a paycheck attached to them. I sometimes wonder whether, in trying to prove that women were capable of succeeding in the workplace, society created another expectation: now women should succeed professionally and continue carrying much of the responsibility of motherhood. That doesn't always feel like liberation. It feels like two full-time jobs.

I Can Love My Career and Still Long to Be Home

This is one of the contradictions I have had to allow myself to live with. I can be proud of what I have accomplished professionally and still wonder what life would look like if I were able to stay home with my children. Those feelings don't cancel each other out. Being an executive has taught me a tremendous amount. Leadership has challenged me, stretched me, and given me opportunities to make meaningful decisions and contribute to an organization. But becoming a mother changed the way I measure time. Before having a baby, a year could feel long. Now I look at my daughter and realize how quickly everything changes. The newborn clothes disappear. Then the newborn sounds.

Then suddenly she is more alert, reaching for things, recognizing people, sitting, playing, observing, and developing her own little personality. Childhood doesn't wait for a convenient point in my career.

There will always be another meeting. There will always be another project. There will always be another email. There will not always be a baby in my arms. And that realization has caused me to ask myself some difficult questions.

The Economy Changes the Conversation

It would be easy for me to write, "Mothers should simply stay home if that's what they want."

But for many families, that isn't realistic. We live in an economy where housing, groceries, utilities, insurance, transportation, childcare, medical expenses, and everyday necessities can consume an enormous portion of a family's income. For many women, working is not primarily about pursuing some glamorous vision of "having it all." It is about survival. Two incomes may be what keeps the mortgage or rent paid. Two incomes may provide health insurance. Two incomes may make groceries possible without constant anxiety. Two incomes may pay for diapers, transportation, medical bills, and everything else a growing family needs. Sometimes a mother works because she loves her career. Sometimes she works because her family needs her income. And sometimes both things are true. That is why conversations about working mothers need more compassion and nuance. A woman shouldn't be shamed for wanting a career. But she also shouldn't be shamed for wanting to leave one.

What If My Dream Changes?

Before becoming a mother, career advancement could easily be viewed as moving forward. Higher title. Greater responsibility. Better compensation. More influence. More accomplishments. Motherhood complicated that definition. What if success for me eventually means having less professionally so that I can have more time with my family? What if the next major decision isn't another promotion? What if it is restructuring our entire life so that I can be home? That possibility is both beautiful and frightening. Because wanting to become a full-time parent is one thing. Figuring out how to afford it is another.

What If Staying Home Means Moving Away?

One of the hardest possibilities to consider is that becoming a one-income family might require a much bigger life change. It could mean moving. Perhaps even moving to another state where housing and the overall cost of living would make it more realistic for one parent to support the household.

That isn't a small decision. Moving means potentially leaving familiar surroundings, routines, friends, professional networks, doctors, favorite places, and the community where you imagined raising your children. It means asking questions you never expected to ask. Could we afford a home somewhere else on one income? Would my husband be able to earn enough there? Could we build a new community? Would we be happier? Would we regret leaving? Would the financial breathing room be worth what we gave up? And perhaps the biggest question: What kind of life do we actually want for our family? There is no spreadsheet that can completely answer that.

Wanting More Children Changes the Equation

The question becomes even more complicated when I think about having more children. It isn't only about whether we can afford another baby. It is about the kind of family life we want to create. If we want more children, do I want to continue trying to balance executive responsibilities, meetings, deadlines, childcare, pregnancy, postpartum recovery, infancy, household responsibilities, and marriage? Could we do it? Probably. But "Can we survive this?" isn't necessarily the same question as "Is this how we want to live?" That distinction matters to me. Perhaps having more children would require sacrifices that once seemed unimaginable. A smaller house. A different state. Fewer luxuries. A tighter budget. A slower career. Maybe even stepping away from executive leadership altogether. And there is grief attached to some of those possibilities. A woman can deeply desire to stay home with her children and still grieve the career she worked hard to build. She can feel relieved and terrified. She can feel called toward motherhood while wondering whether leaving the workforce will make returning difficult someday. She can want another baby while worrying about money. She can be grateful for her current life while imagining another one. Human beings are capable of holding conflicting emotions at the same time.

Maybe Freedom Means Having a Genuine Choice

I don't believe every woman should stay home. I don't believe every woman should work. I don't believe there is one arrangement that defines good motherhood. What I increasingly believe is that women deserve the ability to make meaningful choices about family life without having those choices dictated almost entirely by economics or cultural expectations. A mother who wants to become a CEO should have the opportunity to pursue that. A mother who wants to work part-time should be respected. A mother who loves working from home should be supported. And a woman who looks at her babies and decides, I want raising them to be my primary work for this season of my life, should not be treated as though she has abandoned everything women fought for. Perhaps that is part of what women fought for: the right to choose our own lives.

I Am Still Figuring Out What My Choice Will Be

Right now, I am grateful that working from home gives me something incredibly valuable: proximity. I get more moments with my baby than I would if I were commuting to an office every day. That matters to me enormously. But I refuse to romanticize it. Working from home doesn't turn a full-time job into a part-time one. Being home doesn't make executive responsibility disappear. And loving my baby doesn't magically give me the ability to simultaneously give 100 percent of myself to motherhood and 100 percent of myself to work. There are only so many hours in a day. There is only one of me. So I find myself imagining another life. Maybe someday I will step away. Maybe we will decide that one income is enough. Maybe making that possible will require us to move somewhere more affordable. Maybe we will trade certain comforts for time. Maybe that will allow us to have more children. Maybe I will spend a season of my life measuring success not by meetings attended, projects completed, or titles earned, but by breakfasts around the table, books read on the couch, walks with little hands holding mine, afternoons spent learning together, and being present for ordinary moments that become childhood memories.

I don't know exactly what that future looks like yet. And I know choosing it would come with sacrifices. But motherhood has taught me that a successful life cannot be measured by income and professional accomplishments alone. Money matters. Careers matter. Financial stability matters. But time matters too. Presence matters. Family matters. And childhood is remarkably short. For the first time in my life, I find myself wondering whether the biggest promotion I could ever give myself might actually be permission to step away from the ladder for a while. Not because I couldn't continue climbing. But because I may decide there is somewhere else I would rather be.