Grieving the Dream - The Challenges of a Working Mom (Part 1)

When Work and Motherhood Collide

They say discrimination against working mothers is a thing of the past. I am here to tell you: it isn’t. It may have gone underground, it may wear a friendlier mask, but it’s more present than ever. And while I read countless LinkedIn posts, written by new mothers, on how the system was not built for moms returning to work after maternity leave - especially in America - I have not yet seen the ripple effect reflect itself within the American corporate world.

My sense of self-worth used to balance on two pillars: my body and my ability to provide for myself financially. Losing either felt unthinkable. Losing both at once? Catastrophic.

I can still picture the night I sat on the couch with my husband, laughing about how different our careers looked. He teased me about my “commitment issues” with my career. It is important to note that he had (and still has) stayed at the same company his entire career, while I’d already moved jobs multiple times.

We chuckled, but later, as I thought about it, the laughter dissolved. My career choices weren’t flippant. They were survival; a result of the challenges of a working mom trying to, well, make it all work.

Let me paint a picture for you.

I began as a mathematics graduate turned tutor, eventually joining a small company full-time. Then came marriage, then the heartbreaking road of trying to conceive. I miscarried early, my progesterone levels plummeting before anyone would take it seriously. In the middle of that pain, I quit my job. My boss was pregnant. The timing was terrible for her, selfish for me. But grief doesn’t check schedules. (For the record: every one of my successful pregnancies was carried with progesterone support. Any pregnancy where I didn’t get help by 6 weeks ended in miscarriage. I have been pregnant 7 times and I have 4 beautiful children thanks to progesterone support. That’s my truth, even if the research is inconclusive.)

Another job, another miscarriage. Another mask over my pain. This time, a lifeline appeared in the form of two women—Fiona Jansen and Karen Davis King—who invited me to a workshop. They created the most beautiful safe space for healing, helping me to allow the grief in, when I had tried to outrun previously. It didn’t fix everything, but it gave me room to breathe again.

Finally, with Progesterone, I carried a pregnancy to term. My daughter was born. Returning to work after maternity leave meant a changed workplace: a new hire, different dynamics. At first it worked—more hands lightened the load. But the balance was fragile, and working mom discrimination loomed over my head.

Work will replace you. Even if you give it everything. Even if you helped build up the foundation. Even if you cared more than most.

Pregnant again, I suffered sudden vision loss and terrifying swelling. My body begged for rest. I left work earlier than expected, choosing my health and my baby’s life. That choice cost me my job. The company quietly stripped my access, hired my replacement, and moved on. It was legal—they were small enough to sidestep protections when it came to bias against mothers in the workplace—but it was brutal and took years to get over.

Here’s what I learned: work will replace you. Even if you give it everything. Even if you helped build up the foundation. Even if you cared more than most.

Balancing work and motherhood forced me to grieve the dream of a career that would hold me with the same loyalty I gave to it. It showed me that stability, meaning, and paycheck aren’t always offered together—and especially not to mothers returning to work after maternity leave.

After that job dropped me like a fly, I told myself I’d do whatever it took to get something stable under my feet again. My self-worth was so fragile at that time—I needed to make money just to feel half human. So I took on a casual role at a large corporation. The pay was okay, the role was “as needed,” not the door most people would choose. But I paid attention. I learned what mattered most to leadership and I delivered, again and again.

Within a year, I had worked my way into a full-time role, reporting directly to the VP of Talent Acquisition at a company of over 16,000 employees. That was an accomplishment. But soon after, I had my third child. Six weeks postpartum, I was asked to return in a casual capacity until coming back full-time at 12 weeks postpartum, with promises of promotions on the horizon—promotions I desperately counted on with childcare costs mounting. Then restructuring hit. The promotions evaporated. And I found myself pregnant again, with my fourth child.

So, in a way, my husband was right. I did have commitment issues.

My worth was so bound up in earning money that I couldn’t fathom working at a deficit to childcare. And yet, I couldn’t picture myself as a full-time stay-at-home mom either. So at 34 weeks pregnant, I accepted a new role at a marketing agency where the increase in pay had only just covered the increased cost in childcare. By then, I had learned the hard way not to disclose pregnancy during interviews: I’d been ghosted five times before when I did. So this time, I waited. I got the job, signed the offer, and then mentioned I was expecting. This time, it worked out—at least at first.

But the working mom struggles I faced without a support system eventually caught up to me. I couldn’t keep running on empty trying to balance motherhood and a career. And one day, I walked away—for good.

So, in a way, my husband was right. I did have commitment issues. To commit to career or to commit to motherhood, that was the constant question I tried so badly to answer. But some questions, don't require answers. Sometimes, we just need to listen.

And when I listened, I realized I had a dream of being both a career woman and a super mom, but on my terms. I realized I had the dream of building something on my own. Something that would never ask me to choose between my health, my family, and my worth. Something like The Small Elephant.

Because at its core, The Small Elephant is built on the values my career could never offer me-- especially when I was returning to work after maternity leave: dignity, balance, and the belief that who you are matters more than what you do.

Author’s note on the challenges of a working mom

This series, is my heart laid bare. I share these stories not because they’re tidy or polished, but because they’re real—and because I know too many working mothers walk through similar shadows in silence. If even one part of my journey helps you feel seen, less alone, or more hopeful, then every word is worth it.

With love,

Gretchen