Motherhood Math

I was not planning to write an article about Mother's Day. I had an entirely different subject mapped out, but then I felt called by Lindsey Stanberry to share my career vs. motherhood story. The media seems to have waged a war against working moms, so rather than reminding you of how worthy you are of the flowers, brunch, and gratitude (and you ARE!), I want to highlight why the weight of motherhood in the US in 2026 cannot be so easily relieved by those gifts.

I'm Living an Unplanned Version of My Life

If in November of 2015 you had asked me what I'd be doing in 2026, I would have detailed a scene of Ryan and me bouncing between our favorite adventure spots in a camper van. Back then, Ryan and I were on the "FIRE" track- making plans to retire early, travel the world, and explore our freedom.

I didn't think I wanted kids, and I wasn’t planning to be tied to my career forever. And then... I got pregnant.

I always joke that it's a good thing that humans have a nine month gestational period, because I needed every one of those months to warm up to the idea of being a mom. I was just so afraid of losing my identity, and going from independent, adventurous, tough, trailblazing career woman to "just" mom.

It did happen though- my identity shifted completely. I still wanted the intellectual stimulation of work. I still wanted to earn, contribute, and build something of my own- but I also felt physically pulled toward my babies in a way that made returning to work feel like I was tearing myself in half.

When my unpaid maternity leave ended, there wasn’t a sudden switch that made me ready for work. I just knew I had to resume that old identity, because that was the default.

I returned to work, carrying the same guilt and confusion so many of you know: I hated leaving my baby with someone else; I silently schemed to leave work and not come back; I felt squeezed by the financial pressure of daycare, while still loving that I was earning, saving, investing, staying “on track”; I was terrified that stepping back would cost me more than just income, that my resume would somehow have a more devastating gap because I left as a mother, rather than leaving as a FIRE-seeking, independent adult.

My reality at work as a new mom was different too. I was welcomed back to the office by my colleagues, but inside I felt embarrassed. I had asked for paid leave (didn’t get it). I snuck away to pump in whatever private space I could find. I had to leave every day at 4:45, aware that people were noticing. On top of this, I knew my priorities had changed, even though I would dare not say it out loud.

Now when I think about my old fear of becoming "just mom", it makes me laugh. The 'mom' part of my identity is the most robust, complex, powerful, and persistent. "Just mom" lit a fire in me that I didn't know I was capable of before I had kids. I feel my identity now is so much bigger than I knew before becoming a mother- and it extends far beyond being a mother.

Our System Isn't Built for This

You might already know about how that part of my story ended- it took a few years, a pandemic, and the complete breakdown of our childcare, and eventually I quit my career. It still doesn't sit well with me today because it wasn't the triumphant exit I had imagined. The immense contributions, stress, sacrifice, care, and ambition I dedicated to my career all came down to a final moment where I was barely vertical, waving my white flag. I felt cheated, even though I had the privilege of being able to quit. It's not how I had wanted it to end.

It took years for me to be in a place where I am now: fulfilled, motivated, proud, growing. I wish I could say it's because I started using the system we all have available to us to propel my career in a way that works for me and my family. It's not. Instead, my husband and I built our own system- one that's not a realistic or sustainable solution for everyone: we're financially independent and can afford to be work-optional. After Ryan left his job, he slowly began taking on the household tasks that used to weigh me down. He supports me 100% while I chase down my passion career. He plans dinner, grocery shops, volunteers at school, attends PTA meetings, coordinates playdates and carpools, and always has the afterschool bags packed with jackets and snacks. He's taking on the motherload right now so I can focus on my career for the first time since becoming a mom. There is honestly nothing sexier, but I digress...

The first part of my motherhood story is not unique. The media loves to blame careers and financial independence for women deciding not to navigate motherhood, even if they want to. Here's what's more likely to blame for women opting out of motherhood:

• Limited or unpaid leave

• Expensive and often inaccessible childcare

• Persistent pay gaps

• Workplace cultures that still reward uninterrupted careers

On top of this, there's a huge financial impact on women who step out of the workforce, even temporarily. A USC study found that women's salaries plummet 40% on average after giving birth, and this Cornell study measured other implications of motherhood in the workplace, such as mothers' perceived competency and commitment, their likelihood of being recommended for hire or promotion, the punctuality standards to which they are held, and their starting salaries. The study also contrasts these figures with the experiences of fathers versus non-fathers (and you guessed it; fathers are awarded higher salaries and more lenient schedules, assumed to be more competent and committed, and receive more hire and promotion recommendations than non-fathers, and far more than mothers).

​The Urban Institute used a simulation model to estimate the average lifetime earnings that an unpaid caregiver misses, which were $295,000 in 2023- this includes earnings and missed retirement benefits.

Until We Get to the Ideal World

An ideal world would be one in which every person had the support they'd need and want to raise a family, so that they could make their decision about whether to become a parent, based on their hopes and dreams, instead of based on the grim realities of parenting in our country today.

Since we're not yet in an ideal world, there are steps we can take to try to alleviate these realities:

1. Redefine “on track.” The traditional financial timeline wasn’t designed with caregiving in mind. A pause, pivot, or slowdown isn't career suicide, or financial failure. It's important that your plan reflects your reality.

2. Protect your future self, even in small ways. If full retirement contributions aren’t possible, what is? A spousal IRA doesn't require earned income for the non-working or less-earning parent. A smaller monthly investment still compounds, and can be built upon in the future. Staying mentally engaged with your daily and long-term finances is a financial win, and a skillset that has a long shelf life, no matter what your employment status looks like.

3. Make invisible labor visible. Unequal division of labor isn’t just a relationship issue; it is financial. Time is a resource and it matters how it's allocated. Modern Husbands is a wonderful podcast that emphasizes the need for men in hetero marriages to take action to create a more equitable division of labor.

4. Run your numbers, but don’t let them make the decision alone. Daycare costs vs. income is only one layer. There’s also career trajectory, identity, mental health, long-term earning power, and fulfillment.

5. Build a version of work that fits your life (even if that takes time). This one is frustrating, because it requires some work and focus when you're already at max capacity. But this is something I really wish I had explored more before assuming my only choices were: stay on a miserable path, or quit completely.

If You’re in It Right Now

If you’re in the push-pull between career and caregiving, you’re not doing it wrong, and you're not alone. I used to assume I was needy, or not cut out for the role. I know now that's not the case. You're in a system that's asking too much of you, and it's OK to design a different version of your life.