Before I had a baby I never appreciated one of the internal battles that you face when you go back to work. I’m not talking about the division between the ‘yay! I’m back at work! I CAN still do my job’ and the ‘oh God. I’m a terrible mother. I can’t believe I’m leaving my amazing toddler with somebody else’ bit of your brain. I’m talking about the weirdness surrounding admitting you’re a mother in the workplace.
In my trade, after the age of 35, women leave in droves. There’s a sort of accepted view that you can’t be a mother AND do my job. But I decided to give it a try and see how it goes because I kind of like my job. I also decided quite quickly that I wouldn’t give in to the pressure to deny the existence of my child because that would make me resentful. Why does having a child mean you’re no longer able to do your job well? Ok, I may not be able to automatically work illegal hours anymore but I’m a hell of a lot more efficient than I used to be. Anyway, I’ll illustrate the internal battle using a conversation I had with a guy who I think might be a bit of a wanker…
I met him for the first time at a work brainstorm. He asked me what I’d been up to and I said I’d just returned from maternity leave after having a daughter. He asked me how old she was and I told him – 14.5 months. He then looked me in the eye and waited. There was an awkward silence during which time I thought, ‘errr… say something then. I don’t want to tell you anything else about my daughter. We’re at work. I don’t know you. This isn’t baby talk time’. But the silence remained and I finally caved in and filled it with, ‘yeah. She’s great… but I shouldn’t go on’. His response? ‘I’m not really interested to be honest.’ I mean. What a twat. I wasn’t really interested in telling him. He was absolutely not my target audience for tales of my daughter’s brilliance. I wasn’t about to wax lyrical about her latest new words and hilarious personality. His response was like a slap in the face though. It really made me mull over this weird work conundrum. People should feel able to talk about their kids like they’re not dirty little secrets but I’m finding myself almost ashamed when I dare to utter her name. Are all work environments like this or is mine stuck shamefully in the past?