It’s a tale as old as the 21st century: after having my first child, I gave up my job. It wasn’t a decision I had anticipated making, but returning to work as a full-time magazine editor after maternity leave confirmed that regular long-haul flights, dismal commutes and spiralling full-time nursery fees were all forces incompatible with my young son’s needs – not to mention my own. Feeling a mixture of regret, resentment and apprehension, I decided to hand in my notice and return temporarily to freelance writing on a part-time basis. In doing so, I joined the ranks of hundreds of thousands of women in the UK deprioritising or cutting down on professional work to carve out space for the equally real business of caregiving during those intensive pre-school years.

The adjustment has not been easy. But I’m coming to realise that stepping back has, in some ways, been the most empowering career move I’ve made yet.

According to current data, there are 1.34 million stay-at-home parents in the UK – the majority of them women. Additionally, 37% of working mothers of children aged 0–4 work part-time. For some, it’s a choice; for others, factors such as the UK’s exorbitant childcare costs or rigid return-to-office mandates necessitate it. For all of us, the complex business of parenting remains very much ‘work’. 

Thankfully, the conversation around mothers who step back from paid work is slowly changing as awareness of the complex social and economic landscape of early parenthood increases. The recent publication of The Power Pause, by Neha Ruch, the Stanford-educated author and founder of the parenting platform Mother Untitled, has thrust the topic further into the spotlight. Designed to act as a handbook for mothers who find themselves decelerating their careers temporarily – whether that means going part-time, becoming self-employed, starting a side hustle or quitting the workplace – the book dismantles the outdated stereotypes associated with being a stay-at-home mum, dismissing the idea that the experience needs to be detrimental to your career in the long term, instead rebranding it as a mere pause, and one that can be both personally and professionally enriching at that.

Ruch’s portrayal of contemporary mothers as driven, dynamic women who are pivoting their focus towards childcare ‘for a season’ struck a chord with me. I don’t consider myself wholly a stay-at-home mum – we use part-time childcare and I work hard to make freelancing viable, often firing off pitches late at night and arranging interviews during nap times – but clearly, I’m no longer the devoted full-timer of old. I’m operating in what Ruch refers to as ‘the grey area’ between career and parenthood, juggling being present for my toddler with attempting to maintain some sort of professional continuity as best I can.

The challenges have been manifold. Though leaving my job was a choice and a privilege, the age-old childcare-salary equation meant that it felt more like a necessity, and at times I resent ‘the system’ for making paid employment so challenging for mothers. Facing up to who I am without an appointed job title has also been confronting: it’s well known that early motherhood can radically test your sense of self, and returning to work can help mitigate that. I’ve always seen my work as essential to my identity, and distancing myself from it has left me feeling lost at times. Financially, too, it’s been a huge change – I’m fortunate to have a partner who can carry a bigger share of the load while I work part-time, but the truth is I feel the loss of contributing my regular salary to our family finances keenly, and I worry about the ‘motherhood penalty’ and its potential impact on my future security.

And yet, in other ways, facing these challenges head-on has sometimes felt like my bravest and most daring career move. The decision to throw caution to the wind and live in the moment by focusing on being around for my son right now feels instinctively like the right path for me and for our family, and it feels good to go with my gut. Although the unpredictability of freelance work can make things like childcare trickier to navigate than within the structure of the 9–5, this lifestyle allows for a certain amount of flexibility that better suits our current situation. I’ve had to identify my own sense of purpose and self-worth outside the traditional structure of salaried employment, and though it’s been tough, I feel more resilient for it. There’s nothing like self-employment to jumpstart your motivation to earn. I find I’m more proactive these days, and any wins feel more personally validating.

Though subtle, I hope these changes will eventually prove beneficial to my career progression, whatever that looks like in the years to come.     

In what I suspect is a more universal parental experience, my son has also allowed me to discover new or dormant facets of my personality: I’m sillier, more creative and more patient than before. His arrival brought my most fundamental principles into sharp focus, and though I often lurch through the day bleary-eyed, on a larger scale I have a clearer sense of my priorities and values. Newly time-poor, I am less afraid of just getting things done: I’m more efficient, and – something of a triumph for a lifelong people-pleaser – comfortable with communicating more directly.

I’m not saying my situation is perfect. The juggle, as they say, is real – and no matter how much I try to apply my journalism training to motherhood, scrolling my phone in the wee hours to research attachment theory or inventing creative stories to pass long and stressful car journeys – there will always be days that I feel the loss of what I stepped away from. I still have plenty of big ideas and I’m regularly frustrated by not having the time to act on them, and I sometimes feel inadequate compared to the impressive full-time working mothers I know. To be clear: I firmly believe that whether you’re a mother who works full-time, part-time, hustles during nap times or has stepped back from the workplace completely, you should be acknowledged and supported to do what is best for you, because there is no easy way to navigate any of this. I’m learning to be patient with myself and to embrace all the positives and privileges that this current stage of my life represents.

I hope to dedicate more time to my career again soon, but until that time comes, I’ll continue working in the grey area. And I’ll feel more empowered for it. 

Images: Shanna McGoldrick