Back and Better Than Ever! (Great. But What If You’re Not?)

There’s a version of the return-to-work post that gets huge engagement. Big smile, usually a blazer, “SO thrilled to be back!! Feeling refreshed, refocused and ready to smash Q3!!” or “Can’t wait for a hot cup of coffee and adult conversation!!!”

Now, I’m not here to bash anyone, so I want to say this bit very clearly: if that’s genuinely you, then I’m delighted. Truly. If you’ve had the leave, done the recovering, you’re feeling confident, supported and you’re walking back in, firing on all cylinders, that’s brilliant and I’m not here to take it off you.

But I’m here to suggest that, having spoken to 100 women about their experiences with work, motherhood and ambition on Mambition Podcast, this is the outlier experience and should absolutely not be the expectation.

I think there’s an unfortunate tendency for some employers to see the best case scenario, and set their expectations from there. Then it becomes the excuse to not provide support, they can hold up this example, and say; “well Ashley, came back and was instantly promoted to Head of Sales, so I don’t see why you’re finding it so hard.” Then treat any returning mothers that don’t hit this ridiculously high bar as ‘the problem’.

I find it’s these same employers who don’t recognise the amazing skills that motherhood has developed in us (read the FAB Maternal Strengths Report). Something Izzah helped me realise, is these skills exist in parallel, with no real bearing on how easy or hard we find a return to work.

These employers don’t recognise that we’ve been through Matrescence. They just want us back, and back to our best. Immediately.

The trope

I don’t blame anyone returning to work for doing this. I think it comes down to the fact we’re very aware of the motherhood penalty. So “back and better than ever” stopped being one possible outcome and started being the outcome you perform, regardless of what’s actually true.

Ready! Excited! Raring to go!

The unspoken deal is to prove nothing has changed, prove the year off hasn’t cost you anything, prove you’re exactly as employable as the version of you that left, if not MORE SO, and maybe if you manage all of that, then the motherhood penalty just might leave you alone.

If you’re not there yet? ( and the reality is that most women aren’t there yet.) If you’re running on four broken hours of sleep? If your boobs are leaking? If your confidence has evaporated somewhere along the way? If you cried in the car park before your first meeting back? If you miss your baby? If you feel guilty about their long hours in childcare? You learn pretty fast that’s not the version you’re supposed to bring inside.

I came back after 18 months off, with PTSD, PPA, as my son had just had major surgery. I was incredibly worried about leaving him, and if I’m being honest about it, totally traumatised by the whole experience. And what did I say?

“Oh SO good to be back! Great to have a hot cup of coffee and some adult conversation!”

Because that’s what you’re expected to say. You can’t burst into tears or fall asleep at your desk. Because you have to show you’re still committed! You still want it! So you pretend you’re fine, and you don’t speak up, because you’re worried you’ll be punished for it.

Why it’s harder than it looks

This isn’t an accident, and it isn’t really about your individual resilience or ability to cope. It’s the motherhood penalty, it’s just wearing a different coat, hoping you don’t recognise it and play along.

Because if the workplace already suspects mothers are a risk, less committed, less available, less ambitious then the pressure to perform readiness isn’t really about how you feel. It’s your insurance. We’re trying to insure ourselves against judgment, against the motherhood penalty, even if we’re doing it subconsciously.

But the more we all perform back and better than everness? The harder it is to ask for help. It makes it look like everyone else is smashing it, and you wonder “what’s wrong with me?!”

The very fact we feel the need to play this game, to keep our worries unspoken, to perform our commitment for the employers (who frankly, often aren’t all that committed back) says a lot about how supportive the workplace environment is, or rather isn’t, for mothers.

I feel like the more we make an effore to move away from this trope, the more we’ll understand and support mothers’ real experiences. Workplaces might accept that coming back from maternity leave is HARD. That it can feel like starting a totally new job, but where people expect you to have all the answers, straight away. They might realise that women should be able to expect a ramping up process, onboarding and proper support.

For the first two years of being back at work I went to bed with my son at 7.00 each night, he was a dreadful sleeper, just to try and get some sleep.

During the week, I survived a night of broken sleep, got up, chugged a coffee, got dressed into my too tight work clothes, got Ted ready, got the bus with him to nursery, dropped him off when it opened at 8.30, rushed to work to get started by 8.45, and did my full day of work.

At the end of the day I clock-watched at 4.45, knowing it was time to leave and that I needed to leave. I’d done a full day’s work, but worried if people saw me leaving it was a mark against my commitment. Then I ran to nursery, collected Ted, got the bus home, and arrived home about 6. Then I had to do things like, you know, eat and shower. After all of that, Ted would only sleep if someone was next to him, and I was so exhausted I was ready to go to bed myself, just to survive another day.

But if anyone asked how I was? I’d have said “Oh, fine. A bit tired.”

I think every mother has her own version of this story, but we’ve been fed the “you can do it all!” girlboss stuff, and we know “women can do anything!” and if we can do anything, then why is this so hard? What’s wrong with me?

We blame ourselves, and that keeps us from sharing that we need help. We’re all pretending we’re fine, so we’re not chewed up and spat out by the system. This allows the system to continue. Even though it doesn’t support mothers, who are leaving the workforce in astonishing numbers.

What I’ve seen actually help

Every single mother I’ve spoken to has said how HARD returning to work is, even the super successful ones. The women who came through this well weren’t the ones who felt “better than ever” on day one. They were the ones who found one person, a manager, a colleague, sometimes just each other, they could say the real version to. “Why is this so fucking hard?” said out loud to the right person does more for a return than any amount of performed enthusiasm ever will.

The other thing that helped: having a realistic timeline instead of an instant one. Not “I’m back to normal,” but “give me six weeks before you judge the normal.”

What to do on Monday morning

If you’re heading back and you’re not “raring to go,” you don’t owe anyone the performance. Say the true version to one supportive person who can actually do something with it: your manager, HR, a trusted colleague, the parents’ network, a coach or mentor. Ask for six weeks, or a phased return, or simply the permission to not have an answer yet about how it’s going.

Some workplaces are really bad at supporting a good return, that’s not your fault. But make sure you know your rights, what you’re entitled to, be as assertive as you feel able to about what you need to support your return, and have in mind where to turn if that support doesn’t materialise.

And if you are back and better than ever?

Then genuinely, good for you. Carry on smashing it! Post your blazer photo! Everyone else, especially employers, let’s remember this isn’t the bar returning mothers should be measured against. I’d love it if we could move away from people feeling like they need to perform this energy.

And finally, I know there’s a case for fairness, not everyone has kids, not everyone even gets a maternity leave (hello self-employed mums, I am in awe) but the majority of people in the workplace will need flexibility to care for someone, at some point. A partner, a parent, a family member, a pet. We all have lives, can we stop pretending that we should live to work. Even the most ambitious people out there have life commitments. Let’s build empathy and flexibility for everyone.

Tell me the truth about your return, whichever version it was.

I read every reply, and this is exactly the kind of thing I really want to know all about.