I was 38 weeks pregnant when I stopped being able to walk, at age 28, with my first child of five.
I remember the exact moment, standing in a long hallway, where I couldn’t race back to my class where 30 high school kids sat waiting for instruction. I grabbed a rolling chair from a nearby classroom and inched my way back from the bathroom, sitting.
I’d developed a painful pelvic bone condition, and I thought for sure I’d be sent home to bed for the rest of my pregnancy.
But that’s not what happened next. Instead, I got a call from HR, detailing my options. I could stop working now — since I couldn’t walk and all — but that would count as starting maternity leave early. And that would mean two fewer weeks I’d get to spend with my baby.
So I rolled from student to student in that same chair for the next three weeks, until I delivered my baby overdue.
This was the beginning of my abrupt education into the world of maternity leave, and how policies, procedures, and the workplace dictate what’s best for you — not your body, your mind, or even your doctor.
Over the decade that followed, I’d go on to have four more babies, work for multiple employers, and experience multiple parental leave policies. Each one shaped the story of my pregnancy, birth, and motherhood in different ways — some that I valued, and some I’d like to forget.
Courtesy of Alexandra Frost
Baby 1: Toughing out the last weeks of pregnancy for a longer leave
Data from around that same time showed a growing trend of moms working right up until birth, a fear I had with my first child — would my water literally break at a student’s feet? It’s also why, in education, many teachers try to strategically conceive their babies to line up with school breaks.
In 2014, I learned on leave from my first baby that it was the first of many decisions I’d make as a new mom that involved choosing between my own health and well-being or my child’s, who benefited from having me home longer after birth. Ultimately, I was glad to have prolonged the start of my maternity leave as long as I could to get the most healing time possible before heading back to work.
Baby 2: Arbitrary leave rules with big impact
Around 18 short months later, I was back in the delivery room in 2016, and navigating leave with another school district. This one had a unique rule that didn’t quite make sense to me — if you had banked 12 weeks of sick leave, you could use all 12 for maternity leave, but only six of those could be paid. As a young working mother now with two babies, also married to an educator, this meant going six weeks without pay to get the most time off with my new baby, while trying to pay for our $4,000 hospital bill and double the diapers.
I called HR multiple times to clarify. Clearly, I’d heard wrong that if I had the sick time that I’d saved up, I couldn’t use it still for paid time off? Except I hadn’t. Their justification was that they had to make sure we had enough “extra” sick time in our bank so that we wouldn’t be in a bind if we or our kids got sick. And here I was thinking it was my decision when and how to use my own sick time.
It taught me that the system isn’t really built for moms’ or babies’ needs; it’s for the benefit and convenience of the business, corporations, and districts where we work.
Baby 3: Revolving a leave around benefits
My third child arrived within weeks of a job change in 2018. If I had the baby, due ironically on Labor Day, before the start of a new month, I’d have a certain set of leave benefits. If I had the baby after, I’d have a different set, including insurance with a deductible that would reset. The timing was bizarre.
Read more stories about people juggling career and parenthood
In this birth, I made the decision to be induced early to reap the massive financial and leave benefits I’d accrued at my first job — I’d met my deductible and the birth would be free if the baby came in time. Induction before the body is ready can come with a slew of risks, I found out. It soon turned into a hellish 28-hour labor, with a failed induction that wouldn’t progress and I couldn’t turn back from.
I learned that I could try to play God and manipulate my circumstances for financial gain and convenience, but that the body and the baby don’t follow your best laid plans. In another world, both employers would have had equally great benefits and leave, and the baby could have come when he was ready. I greatly regret how I handled this, and had to work to undo the trauma of this birth that I caused by trying to rush it.
Baby 4: How it was supposed to be
If you have enough babies, eventually, parental leave will go your way. That was the case with my fourth son, in 2021, when I encountered a largely “chill” contact at my employer who was determined to infuse as much flexibility as possible around the company’s standard leave practices.
Late in the pregnancy, when my pelvic pain returned, I was able to take up to five regular sick days off consecutively at a time without them counting toward official leave. This meant I could work for a day, take five days, and repeat — which I did, a handful of times — making the end of pregnancy much less stressful and painful.
I learned from this leave that encountering a contact or boss who would allow the policies to stretch as far as possible to benefit the people who need it. Though real nationwide change would be better, this was a step in the right direction.
Courtesy of Alexandra Frost
Baby 5: Self-employment…better, but worse
A few years into parenting four sons, I quit teaching to establish my own writing, content marketing, and strategy business. I was now my own boss — so the policies better be good, right? Turns out, it’s not as easy to take leave as a business owner as I thought.
When it was time to have my fifth baby, I had clients on retainers and editors with deadlines. I had a subcontractor who was luckily loyal and helpful who helped me navigate this. But around a month in, even with the help of a few part time, remote assistants, the emails, projects, and missed opportunities were piling up. I tried to walk the line as carefully as possible to avoid missing opportunities for the sake of full-time bonding with my baby. In reality, this meant only five weeks truly off.
From there, the lines blurred between leave and flexible work. I’d sneak in some work at naptime to keep the bank accounts balanced. I’d work as I nursed a fussing toddler during witching hour in the evenings. I worried as a mom of five about the choice to take time off at the expense of our finances. But in the end, I was in control, which felt better.
From this leave, I learned that maybe I didn’t need super long leaves; I just needed choice. I didn’t regret going back to work “early” when it was my own decision, not being forced on me by an employer or policy.
Do you have a story to share about your career? Contact this editor, Debbie Strong, at [email protected].
