Balancing Motherhood and Work

There’s a tension every working mother knows well: the pull between career and motherhood. On one hand, a job provides identity, fulfillment, and financial stability. On the other, the moment you hold your child, everything shifts—your priorities, your perspective, even your sense of self.

When I became a mother, my career as a healthcare provider—something I had dreamed of, trained for, and sacrificed so much to achieve—suddenly took a back seat. I still remember crafting my “away message” before maternity leave and thinking, Three months? That’s not nearly enough time with this new soul I’ve just met. During those early days, I often caught myself locking eyes with my daughter while breastfeeding, inhaling her newborn scent, marveling at her tiny hand curled around my finger. In those moments, I knew I had been transformed. My priorities no longer revolved around my career—they revolved around her.

Returning to work required a new level of stamina. I carefully carved out time to pump milk, at first three breaks a day, then fewer as she grew older. It was one of the most demanding “jobs” I’ve ever had—meticulous, physical, relentless—and one of my proudest achievements. But it also stretched me to my limits. Balancing the needs of patients with the needs of a baby, all while keeping up with the emotional labor of both, left me depleted. I came face to face with my own bandwidth—and the realization that compassion, focus, and care all come at a cost when we don’t replenish ourselves.

Now, with my daughters at ages 6 and 8, those newborn years are behind me. But the lesson remains: my capacity is not limitless. If I don’t rest, if I don’t create space for joy and connection, my “superpowers” shrink. Compassion turns into irritability. Creativity into frustration. My world narrows, my posture folds in, and I lose sight of who I want to be.

The difference now is awareness. I can see the signs when my reserves are running low, and I pause to ask myself:

• What have I been pouring my time and energy into?

• Where am I ruminating instead of resting?

• Have I given myself permission to pause, play, or simply be?

• Have I balanced the things that drain me with the things that fill me—human connection, solitude, joyful activity, or even a nap?

This kind of awareness is the foundation of resilience. It’s also the heart of sustainable self-care. Because when we refill our own cup—with rest, wellness routines, nourishment, and community—we are able to show up as our best selves. And both we and our children deserve that version of us.