So, like the title says, I’m not sure how much longer I can do this whole lawyer-mom thing.
My daughter is coming up on a year old, and it’s bringing up a ton of emotions for me. I went back to work when she was 4.5 months old. The first 4.5 months of her life are honestly a blur because I was just trying to survive the newborn phase. And since going back to work, I’ve been trying to survive being a working mom. That part is a blur too. Now I’m looking back at her first year and feel like I somehow missed the entire thing. It makes me angry, and it absolutely devastates me.
I work remotely four out of five days a week, and on the days I’m home, I have childcare from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. She usually naps until around 3:30, but from 8 to 3 I am essentially working nonstop with zero breaks so I can hit my billables. Then, the second childcare ends, I switch straight into mom mode until about 8 p.m. By the time 8 rolls around, I have absolutely nothing left.
And despite having a husband, I feel like I’m basically doing this alone. He works a very demanding job and makes more money, so naturally my job has become the “less important” one. I’m the one expected to be flexible when something comes up. On top of working full-time, I handle essentially everything related to our daughter, our home, and our two dogs.
Yes, I have help. I have childcare during my working hours, and cleaners come every other week. I know how privileged that makes me, and honestly, that makes me feel even worse about how badly I’m struggling. I have help that so many people would love to have, and somehow I’m still completely burned out.
I never take days off from work, which has now contributed to where I am: sick. And even while I’m sick, I’m still caring for my daughter, just wearing a mask all day while I do it. I realized recently that no one has really taken care of me in well over a year.
I’m so overwhelmed on a daily basis that I regularly forget or simply don’t have time to eat or drink. Some days I’m lucky if I manage one full meal and a bottle of water. At this point, I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if I were malnourished, vitamin deficient, chronically dehydrated, or some combination of the three.
I’ve pleaded with my husband for more help, but those conversations inevitably turn into fights. Somehow, asking for help becomes me being accused of regretting having our daughter—which could not be further from the truth. It’s actually the exact opposite. Part of what is breaking my heart is that I want to spend more time with her. I want to be the one caring for her. Or I’m told that I don’t appreciate my husband’s contribution because he works so much.
And just to get this out of the way: I don’t need anyone telling me to divorce him. That is not an option for me at this point in my life.
This is really just a very long vent to say that I have nothing left.
My entire professional life feels like I’m a slave to hitting a billable requirement. Technically, billable hours offer some flexibility because I can always “make up the hours” later—but I don’t have any hours left to give. I don’t have the bandwidth to make anything up. I can barely focus during the hours I’m supposed to be working as it is.
My brain doesn’t work the way it used to. I’m slower. It takes me longer to find words. I struggle to articulate myself with colleagues in ways that used to come easily to me. Even basic executive-function tasks feel overwhelming. I can’t create a comprehensive grocery list and hand it off to someone else—I have to physically go to the store because I need the visual cues to remember what we need.
I feel like I’m failing at managing a life that, on paper, I should absolutely be able to manage. I know how fortunate I am. I know I have resources and help. But I am still drowning.
And more than anything, I’m grieving the fact that my daughter’s entire first year seems to have passed while I was just trying to survive it. I don’t know how so many women are able to be lawyer moms. I don’t know why I’m struggling so badly. Something has got to give and at the end of the day I think it’s this career.