A few years ago, when my daughter was about nine years old, I was having a phase at work that was as busy as all hell. It was about two to three weeks of a lot of early starts followed by after work commitments. They must have all been oh-so-crucial because I did them all. (Even though I now can’t remember a single one, so there’s a lesson in there for us all).
I had barely seen my little family of husband and one child. I said to my daughter, ‘I am so sorry that I’ve been at work so much but I promise it’s slowing down from next week and I will take some time off and we can do anything with you that you want.’ (I do remember secretly praying it wouldn’t involve her obsession at the time, which was spending hours in the shop, Lush. The smell gives me a migraine.)
Her immediate response floored me. ‘Mum, I can’t think of stuff to talk to you about all day every day. You go about your day, I’ll go about mine and then when we do see each other we’ll have stuff to tell each other.’
The emotional intelligence blew my mind. And hurt my feelings a bit; I was torn between wanting to be at least *mildly* missed and relieved that she was perfectly fine without me.
The point is this. In her little girl way, she was rolling her eyes and telling me that my anxiety was wasted energy. And she was right.
This one weird busy period aside, so-called ‘mother guilt’ is something I’ve never wrestled with.
I wanted to have a child. I also wanted to have a career. There have been times when making those two things work together have been ‘interesting’, sure. But my attitude has always been, ‘We’ll figure it out because we have to. So let’s just all crack on.’
I set about making a routine - a life - in which mum going to work was perfectly normal. It wasn’t something I ever apologised to her about. I taught her it’s what a lot of mums do. No drama.
What I always found interesting when Evie was young, was how so many others appeared to need me to have mother guilt. During my pregnancy, people tutted when I said I was adamant I was going back to work full time. They’d smile and shake their heads in a condescending way and say things like, ‘Oh you’ll feel differently, you’ll never be able to leave that baby. You’ll see.’ The presumed guilt - and the implied disapproval of me having no guilt - made me silently seethe. Relatives - who had free childcare on tap with grandparents nearby - were openly disapproving of our plans to hire a nanny. At the height of Glamour’s success, when I was regularly being asked to speak at functions, there was always the section of questions about ‘how I juggle my career and motherhood’. I feel like I was always a great disappointment with my answers because I couldn’t really think of anything to say other than, we just get on with it. I always felt as if there was an unspoken rule that I was supposed to talk about how hard it was for me. I’ll never forget the audible gasp at one such breakfast event when the inevitable question was asked about how I felt about leaving my daughter to go to work every day and I said, actually, I couldn’t bloody wait to get back to work after maternity leave.
My daughter is my favourite human being in the entire world, the most precious thing to me, my greatest achievement. But - and I don’t want to shock you with this information - it’s really hard and exhausting looking after tiny new babies. Also (whisper it) quite boring. It’s the most impossible thing to comprehend until you’re actually doing it. So I was thrilled my first morning back at work when I actually finished an entire cup of tea before it got cold.
If I’m brutally honest, I often felt that some of the conversations front row at the fashion shows, with other women weeping about missing their kids, about their anger at being ‘made’ to come to Milan or New York, were performative. As if it was not acceptable, as a mother, to be enjoying yourself on a work trip away from the family. It felt a little competitive: Who was doing the most Face Times? Whose child was the most filled with separation anxiety? Did I miss my daughter when I was on those trips? Yes, of course! But we’re talking about three, maybe four night away at a time. And no one had put a gun to my head to make me take the job that I knew involved some travel. So again, I just cracked on with it. In fact, becoming a mother made me love those trips even more. My god, the luxury of getting just myself dressed and then trotting downstairs to a waiting car to take me wherever I wanted. Maybe I should feel guilty about how excited I was to have a little ‘holiday’ from my hectic normal life. But I don’t.
I ended up refusing to participate in panels or newspaper articles that wanted to discuss ‘the juggle’ mainly because the whole subject bored me to death. No one has ever - ever asked my husband how he juggles, or if he feels terrible about that school play he missed.
So I realise the irony of me making it a ‘thing’ with this column today, but it occurred to me that people hardly ever say what I’m saying. We’re not supposed to say we don’t feel at all guilty about being a working mum. But I truly don’t.
Being a working mum forced me to be in the moment as much as possible, both at work and at home. I tried to be efficient and get everything done so that I could leave on time and rush home to see that little baby face and not have to think about work when I was spending time with her. Motherhood introduced boundaries that I’d not had before so I never felt like I was being a bad mum for working.
I’ve always wanted to be an example of independence to my daughter. I like that she has seen me earning my own money, of having a rounded life, in which she is my number one priority but which is also full of many other things that are important to me. I am happy to be a visible example to her of someone who unapologetically wants a career, recognition and status. I want her to see that self-respect in me and emulate it. (Granted, she also clocked from a young age that my job was unique in providing some pretty great perks for her too. She has more pictures with Taylor Swift than she does Santa Claus.)
Make no mistake, I’m not a guilt-free parent, by any stretch. It’s just that my parental anxieties tend to centre around my mothering style in general. Should I be tougher and stricter in some areas? Should I worry more than I do about the Tik Tok consumption? Have I done enough to mould a confident, self-assured adult? That keeps me awake at night.
But guilt about being a working mum? Fuck that.
Love this!!! I'm not a mom - nor I plan to be one any time soon - but the whole mom guilt thing drives me crazy and makes me a lot less excited about actually planning to have kids. Your perspective is super refreshing and a lot more real!!! Thank you for this :)
💯👍🏼