For heaven’s sake, let’s just sit down and mourn the end of my maternity leave.
This week, I returned to a world of lanyards and passwords, door codes and staff rooms. I’m wearing polished shoes and a collar around my neck. I drink tea from a mug that isn’t mine and get emails about parking spaces I’ll never use. Meanwhile, across the cold city, in a home she doesn’t recognize, my daughter is being cared for by someone else for the first time in her life—and I’m paying for it. How am I doing? To borrow from Richard II once more, ask me that, and with tear-filled eyes I’ll tell you my heart is heavy with sorrow.
Of course, the anticipation was the hardest part. A few weeks ago, I actually started crying while buying wrapping paper, overwhelmed by the thought of leaving my breastfeeding, not-yet-walking, sweet-faced baby with someone I barely know, sometimes for ten hours straight. Thankfully, an old friend was right there beside me. She took my arm, looked me in the eye, and said, “She’ll be alright. She will be.” I was so desperate for that exact reassurance that when she joked, “You aren’t leaving her in a room full of electrical wires and tigers,” I think I might have cried all over my own shoes.
But now we’re here. Yes, I’m walking around at lunch with a breast pump hidden under my coat. Yes, I’m checking my phone every hour to look at photos of my daughter tearfully eating toast. And yes, I’m spending more on childcare each hour than I earn. But more than anything, the real problem is time. The rigid, unforgiving structure of the clock. No matter how much you bend and squeeze your family’s life, the pieces just don’t fit. I need to be at work by 8 a.m. My husband has to leave even earlier. My son’s school opens at 8:40. My baby daughter needs to be taken to her caregiver. I have a half-hour bike ride to work. My son finishes school at 3:15. I don’t leave work until 4. However you look at it—through the tangled web of neighbors, grandparents, breast pumps, and bike lanes—it simply doesn’t work.
I was filled with a thick, heavy anger recently reading about Dr. Helen Eisenhauer, a GP who was suspended for booking fake in-person appointments with patients she’d already seen by phone, just so she could pick up her children from school by 6 p.m. Of course I want my doctor to be honest, and of course medical professionals should be held to high standards. But again: time. The time doesn’t work. Time can make the world feel impossible. If you have to work eight hours but your children are only in school for six; if you can’t leave until 5:30 but your daycare starts charging extra after 4; if you need to start at 7:30 but your baby was up until 5 a.m.; if you have an hour commute but your child’s school opens the minute you’re supposed to be at your desk; if their after-school club ends before your shift is over… what are you supposed to do? Time won’t bend. But you might.
There’s another issue, of course, buried in the heart of maternity leave. If you designate one person as the “primary caregiver”—loading them with the responsibility for feeding, soothing, entertaining, socializing, teaching, protecting, and raising a child from birth, along with most of the housework and emotional labor—and then you sideline that person into the category of “parenthood,” expecting them to stay home, burn through their savings, and dedicate every day and night to their children for most of a year… well, it’s no wonder things fall apart when that person has to return to paid work. If you essentially make someone—usually the birth parent—the sole ruler of infancy, things are bound to get difficult once they re-enter the world of formal employment.
More than once this month, I’ve found myself thinking of Lenin’s Testament—the document he dictated on his deathbed, arguing that no single person could or should take his place.As the head of my household—to my friends, family, and yes, even my boss—I was like a Soviet leader. For the past year, I was the one who decided everything: when, where, and how my baby would drink milk, then eat solid food; how they would sleep; what they would wear; who they would spend time with; how we would get around; what medicines they would take; which songs would calm them; when bedtime would be; how cold their little feet could be—the list goes on and on. I had all the authority, but in the end, I also carried all the responsibility.
Now that my time in charge is over, it looks like it will take a childminder, a cleaner, paid school staff, three grandparents, and more to handle all those tasks. I’m no Lenin, thank goodness, but I think I understand what he meant. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to work.
Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs The Unrealistic Expectation of Returning to Work After Maternity Leave
Basics Definitions
What does unrealistic expectation mean in this context
It refers to the common assumption that a new parent can seamlessly return to their prebaby work routinesame hours same focus same productivitywithout significant adjustments or support often ignoring the physical emotional and logistical realities of new parenthood
Isnt maternity leave supposed to prepare you to go back
Maternity leave is primarily for physical recovery bonding with your baby and establishing new care routines Its not a reset button that returns you to your preparent self The transition back is a major life adjustment not just a calendar event
What are some common unrealistic expectations
Examples include expecting to work late with no notice traveling immediately having uninterrupted focus for 8 hours bouncing back to 100 productivity on day one or not needing any workplace flexibility for pediatrician appointments or child illness
Common Challenges Problems
Why is the first week back so hard
Youre managing massive logistical changes sleep deprivation emotional separation from your baby and often catchup stress at workall while your body may still be recovering
I feel guilty and distracted at work Is this normal
Absolutely Mom guilt or parent guilt is very common as is mental preoccupation with your childs wellbeing It doesnt mean youre not committed to your job it means youre human and adjusting to a major new responsibility
My workplace seems to expect nothing has changed What can I do
This is a core issue You can proactively schedule a returntowork meeting with your manager to discuss a phased return adjusted priorities or flexible hours Frame it as a plan for sustainable success not a list of problems
What if I dont have access to a proper lactation space
This is a critical and common hurdle In many regions employers are legally required to provide a private nonbathroom space and reasonable break time to pump Know your rights and communicate your needs clearly in advance
Practical Tips Strategies
How can I prepare for a smoother return
Before leave Discuss coverage and communication preferences