Only women would willingly take on this much chaos.
First off, let me acknowledge my privileges so you don’t have to: I’m a white woman with a degree, happily married, residing in a picturesque mountain town. I enjoy a fulfilling career. I’m incredibly fortunate.
Yet, this is what “having it all” has looked like for me:
Recently, as I walked to my mailbox, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I have a 3-year-old and welcomed a new baby just a month ago. During this time, I’ve managed to work consistently, generating enough income to cover our family expenses and support my partner’s business. I’ve produced work I’m proud of, and I’ve somehow kept my recent childbirth a secret from everyone.
Just as I was patting myself on the back for these “achievements,” an embarrassing incident occurred—I realized I had wet my light-gray sweatpants. My neighbor waved as they passed by, oblivious to my predicament. By the time I returned home, I was already late for a conference call and had to endure sitting in those soggy pants. Luckily, the baby was quiet, but as soon as the call wrapped up, it was time to feed my little one, meaning I stayed in my pee pants for another half hour. After dealing with baby burps and unexpected spit-up in my hair, I simply clipped it back and quickly changed into something more presentable.
At 5 p.m., my older child burst into the room, asking about the brownies I had promised. I hadn’t made them, and my husband was inquiring about dinner. So, I strapped the baby into a sling, headed downstairs, and attempted to salvage both dinner and dessert.
“Uh-oh,” I said.
“What’s wrong?” my husband asked.
“I think I popped a stitch.”
“What? Is that serious?”
“It feels off, and yeah, it might be bad, but what can I do right now?”
Back upstairs I went for a much-needed shower. The discomfort down there was undeniable. At my postpartum checkup, my doctor had casually mentioned, “The stitches are almost dissolved, but your wound is still healing.” Charming, right? Once I was back in bed, ice pack in place, baby nursing, and laptop on my lap, I realized I hadn’t left this room in a month—except to grab food from the kitchen. I took just one day off for childbirth. Let that sink in. Thankfully, the room has a bathroom.
As I glanced at the pile of laundry beside me, I couldn’t help but notice my neglected feet—nail polish chipped and two months old. There was also a bag of dirty diapers nearby, and the smell was overpowering.
I’m not a single mother—my partner is incredibly supportive, far more than most. I’m not working minimum wage jobs or facing significant disadvantages. The only hurdle I face is being a working mother in the U.S.
This brings me to a troubling realization: the concept of “having it all” has been fundamentally misunderstood. The feminist movement of the ’60s aimed to give women choices. Want to have sex without the risk of pregnancy? Go for it. Pregnant but not ready to parent? You have options. Want to work, stay home, or juggle both? It’s your choice.
But the narrative has shifted dangerously. Society now expects women to do it all simultaneously. By this definition, single working moms have been “having it all” for ages, yet they aren’t celebrated as role models. Instead, this is often viewed as a struggle faced by those with limited options, not a choice.
No one ever said, “Wouldn’t it be great to wake up at 5 a.m., prepare breakfast, get dressed, drop the kids at daycare, work a 10-hour day, and then come home to cook dinner and clean up, all while getting only five hours of sleep?”
We changed the conversation for women without transforming the underlying systems. Now, we expect women to have careers and children while also being present and perfect, all without support. We lack government-funded maternity leave, affordable childcare, or understanding from employers.
And while I acknowledge that men can be parents too and that paternity leave is essential, the physical recovery from childbirth and the demands of a newborn often make it more challenging for women. It’s okay to recognize that women might need more time off than men.
This isn’t a critique of men; it’s a plea for society to step up. I’ve faced more judgment from women regarding my parenting choices than from men. It’s often women who question my balance between work and motherhood.
I don’t believe the world owes me an easy life, nor do I expect to make choices without consequences. However, we need to dispel the myth that women can have everything without sacrifices. If you want a career and kids, you can absolutely do both, but it will come with challenges. You will constantly feel pulled in multiple directions, never quite measuring up to anyone’s expectations.
If we want to change the narrative for women, we need to shift societal norms. It should be perfectly acceptable for women to choose not to have children without facing relentless questions about their personal choices. The same applies to women who choose not to work or who want to work without feeling guilty for not being present enough with their kids.
We need to create an environment where women can embrace their decisions, whether that means taking time off to recover from childbirth without worrying about their careers or confidently sharing their pregnancy news without fear of judgment.
Ultimately, let’s redefine what “having it all” means, or better yet, allow each woman to determine what her ideal life looks like. Reflecting on my first month as a mother and realizing I was more focused on hiding my new baby than enjoying the experience is a bit disheartening.
For further insights on family planning and pregnancy resources, check out Mount Sinai’s Infertility Resources.
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Summary:
The notion of “having it all” for women often leads to unrealistic expectations and overwhelming pressures. While women can certainly pursue careers and motherhood, this balance comes with sacrifices and challenges. Society needs to create a supportive environment that allows women to make choices without fear of judgment or consequences.
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