I’m in the final stretch of maternity leave, and I’ve been trying to find the words for everything I’m feeling as I get ready to return to work. It’s hard to name the mix of emotions swirling around this transition — but here’s my best attempt.
There’s the anxiety. The sadness. The fear that my baby girl will struggle in a new environment without me. Even though I’ve done this once before when I returned to work after having Ollie, this time feels heavier. Maybe because I know this is the last time I’ll do it.
But alongside the sadness, there’s excitement. I’ll be stepping into a temporary leadership role just one month after I return — a chance to grow in a space I love. I’m also secretly looking forward to my commute on office days: uninterrupted time to listen to podcasts or audiobooks feels like such a luxury after 9 months of full-on parenting.
Motherhood has changed me. I’ve worked hard to stop people-pleasing and to put my children first without completely losing myself. That “fog” of early postpartum is starting to lift, and I’m beginning to redefine who I am — not just as a mom, but as a whole person.
I’m excited to reconnect with the version of me who loves learning, leading, and contributing as part of a high-achieving team. I miss using my brain in a focused way, completing tasks without being interrupted to wipe noses or soothe cries. But I’m not thrilled about the extended days away from home, and the prospect of overnight travel to site tugs at my heart.
This time around, we’ve been a bit more prepared. Elianna starts daycare a week before I go back to work, with some stay-and-play days while I’m there to help her adjust. We’ve managed to sort out a schedule that gives us support on Tuesdays, where Tony and I will work flexibly and get help from his mom, that way we can continue to have the kids home one day a week while still working full-time.
I’m starting back with a stepped approach, meaning two days for the first week, then three days for the second week, and then I’ll be full-time by the third week. It’s a logistical puzzle — early drop-offs, rushed dinners, strict pickup times to accommodate the bedtime routine— but we’re figuring it out.
Emotionally? That’s harder to prepare for.
I know I’ll feel guilty if Elianna struggles at daycare. If she’s thriving, I probably won’t feel guilty, but I’ll still feel the ache of missing her. All I want is for my kids to be happy. If they’re happy, I’m happy.
I’m also allowing myself to look forward to small joys: adult conversations, hot coffee, uninterrupted lunch breaks. The sheer novelty of sitting down and finishing a thought is something I deeply crave. I’m excited to reconnect with colleagues and rediscover that part of myself that loves to lead, contribute, and grow.
But I’m also holding all of these feelings at arm’s length, at least for now. It’s something I’ve done before — like when I moved to Australia. I wasn’t happy about it, couldn’t change it, so I boxed it up until I had to deal with it. I know this transition will be okay. I keep telling myself that. But deep down, there’s sadness I haven’t fully unpacked yet.
I have hopes, too. That Elianna will settle in well. That I’ll manage to keep up with pumping and maintain our breastfeeding journey. That I’ll do well at work and still be present and connected at home. That Tony and I will find small windows for connection on our work-from-home days, even if just for a cup of tea between meetings.
One recurring fear is that, like with Ollie, I won’t be able to pump enough to keep up. Last time, my stash ran out and I couldn’t sustain exclusive breastmilk. It was stressful. I’m hoping things will go differently this time, but I’m preparing myself emotionally just in case they don’t.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned during this leave, it’s that I want more — not more chaos (lord knows there’s enough of that) but more meaning. That’s why I’ve started writing here and why I’m showing up on Instagram. I feel like I have something to offer, that my experiences can help other people, and I want to share it with the world.
I also learned that I’m strong. I had a home birth. I made it through the newborn fog. I’ve juggled the mental load of motherhood and work before, and I can do it again.
To anyone else standing at this same threshold — about to leave the cocoon of maternity leave and step back into the working world — I see you. It’s hard. It’s emotional. And whatever you’re feeling is valid.
You’ll be okay. And so will I.
Laura the Working Mom 