I always wanted to be a working mom. After this weekend, I’m not so sure
As a reporter in my late 20s who covers caregiving and motherhood , my sources often assume I’m a parent , too.
They’ll be in the midst of pontificating on the woes of parenting − the tantrums, the endless doctor’s appointments and the weight of the mental load − and they’ll interrupt themselves, looking pointedly at me. "Well, you get it," they'll add. Others stop themselves and ask me mid-way through our interviews, "Do you have kids?"
No, I tell them. But I hope to be a mom someday.
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It’s a role I’ve always known I wanted. Playing with Barbies as a kid, my dolls would always be pushing babies in strollers or announce partway through the game that they were pregnant. By middle school I was well-known in my neighborhood for being a babysitter, happily hopping from house to house to entertain giggling toddlers and helping kids with their math homework. I’ve been curating a list of potential baby names since high school.
So as I entered a ballroom filled with mothers at Mom 2.0, an annual summit for mothers and parenting experts that was held in Austin, Texas, in April, I felt less like an imposter and more like I’d just gotten my membership card to the motherhood club a little early. This is like a sneak peak, I told myself. It’s how I feel when writing and researching a lot of my stories for USA TODAY: I’m not a parent or a caregiver right now, but I will be. This is like training.
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But as I chatted with moms over tea and between brand booths at the summit, a troubling thought that’s been growing over the past year took hold: It’s not enough to feel in your bones that you’re meant for motherhood, I realized. Living in a world full of impediments to modern motherhood , deciding if and when to have children is so complicated that it left me wondering about things I never thought I’d ask myself: Is it really worth it? And am I capable?
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People often say that there’s no way to be fully prepared for parenthood. But this job has certainly armed me with information − even if that information is, at times, overwhelming.
My sources have shared the blissful moments of parenthood with me. The connections they build while doing their daughter's hair . How a loving look from their newborn puts everything into perspective. The pride they feel seeing their kids grow more confident in their abilities.
But what’s stuck with me the most are the stories from mothers who found themselves giving up things they never thought they’d abandon in motherhood. Jobs that didn’t accommodate their families’ needs. Friends who no longer felt relatable. Passions and hobbies that fell to the wayside as dirty diapers piled high, despite the promise young girls like me have been fed all our lives, that we could “have it all” as both mothers and career women.
I’ve written about a mother who went into early labor via emergency C-section, had her baby whisked to the NICU and then was still asked to come into work days later . I've spoken with women who faced cancer in their early motherhood days . I’ve written about the insurmountable debt some parents take on , which only multiplies for those in the sandwich generation . I've dissected the trad wife versus girl boss paradigm .
And I have a long string of articles that outline the ripple effects of the gender wage gap , which widens the moment a woman becomes a mom .
I’m not saying every woman I’ve interviewed has left work to be a stay-at-home mom – far from it. But what I have found is that many mothers aren’t satisfied in a corporate world built to exclude them, a domestic life that looks prettier online than in reality and a consumer industry that makes them feel forever inadequate.
And quite frankly, that scares me.
As I packed my suitcase at the end of the Mom 2.0 weekend, I found I’d collected a myriad of baby products from giveaways and goodie bags. Diaper rash cream, chocolate brown baby booties and throat-soothing lollipops littered the hotel bed. It wasn’t lost on me that these items quite literally couldn’t fit into the bag I’d packed full of reporting notepads, my work laptop, my library books and my running shoes. What will I have to sacrifice in the future, I thought, to make room for those booties? Do I still want them?
I do. I know that, deep down. And now, thanks to the women and mothers I’ve met at the conference and beyond, I’ll know what I’m up against when I join their ranks. Someday.
Madeline Mitchell's role covering women and the caregiving economy at USA TODAY is supported by a partnership with Pivotal and Journalism Funding Partners . Funders do not provide editorial input.
Reach Madeline at memitchell@usatoday.com and @maddiemitch_ on X.
This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: I always wanted to be a mom. After this weekend, I’m not so sure
