Before I had kids, people (fine, TikTok) would constantly warn me about an overwhelming sense of “mum guilt” if I went back to work too early. They’d tell me leaving my children to go to the office would cause me to be racked with anguish at the thought of them without me during the nine-to-five grind that I’d so loved and looked forward to returning to after giving birth.
I’ve heard it all — from friends, family, tradwives on TikTok: “Your partner should be working, not you.” “A child needs its mother.” “Breastfed children are proven to be more intelligent, how can you prioritise returning to work over breastfeeding?” and, my favourite, “Who will look after the children?”, as if I were the Virgin Mary and this was an immaculate conception.
I’ve seen the viral TikTok videos of children screaming as they are taken into nursery, with voiceover from a “child expert” telling us this is proof a child should be at home with their mother and not in childcare. By the time my daughter came along in 2021, I’d seen and heard it all. Only occasionally, when talking to other working mums and business owners, would I get a positive response, a knowing nod, a “do what you got to do” rally of support — a depressing rarity.
This week Suki Waterhouse was praised for her brave Instagram picture in her pants, posting about the “humbling” fourth trimester, “filled with exhilarating joy, so much laughter, tears, soo many hormones! I’m proud of everything my body has achieved and proud of the kindness and grace I’ve given myself.” I love Waterhouse and agree with her on all of that. But it’s not what I did. I was back at work two weeks after the birth of my daughter.
I run a creative and talent agency, Push Button Generation, and the office at this point was still my business partner’s kitchen on Columbia Road in east London. I was still hobbling from a (planned) C-section and still on enough strong painkillers to know not to go anywhere near the intricate financial spreadsheets for fear of some seriously upside down maths. I may not have known what day of the week it was but I could still fire off emails at an alarming rate from the comfort of a kitchen island.
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When my son was born last year it was a glorious three weeks of chaos (thanks to the long Christmas break) before I dipped my toes back into work. Yet I was still met with sympathetic head tilts and treated like a victim of an unfortunate circumstance and a martyr to my business (the latter not not true).
By no means did I have to go back so quickly. My job wasn’t on the line if I didn’t; I could’ve taken three months and my whip-smart business partner wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. But, it goes without saying, if we’re both hard at work we know there are more heads working on increasing our small businesses profits. The nursery fees that nearly crumble me monthly start to feel less daunting and, as the sole breadwinner, that’s no bad thing. (My partner is a musician and when he’s not touring he’s raising the kids.)
But there’s another reason I went back to work sooner than the hospital recommendation of six weeks. Every day I come home invigorated and mentally stimulated, and return to my hero partner who’s shattered and pulling his hair out as a wild toddler bulldozes the house and a colicky newborn’s scream makes the windows shake and, from where I’m standing, I know who has the easier job — we both know.
• I had to borrow money for childcare when I got promoted
There have been sacrifices: my legs resemble a shire horse’s, my Botox lady may have sent out a search party for me, my elasticated trousers are my new best friend (where real friends have fallen down the pecking order) and there’s still a bottle of cheap champagne from when my son was born sitting miserably in the fridge that deserves drinking. The house is a tip, I’ve not called my mum to check in this week, and I may or may not have brushed my teeth this morning. But mentally? I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I feel fulfilled at home and work; I feel valued in both and needed at both. I speak from a place of immense privilege: my work offers me a level of flexibility that most jobs can’t, but would I like to spend more time with my kids? Sure. Would I like to go to Monday morning cinema “screamings” at the Barbican with my other mum friends? Sounds great, why not? Maybe for baby No 3? Gulp.
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So for now, while I might not have it all — maybe some would say not even close — for now, it’s all I need.
