It seems fitting that the daily writing prompt when I logged into my WordPress dashboard (for the first time in a LONG time) was “tell us about your first day at something.”

This week was my first week back after just over 12 weeks of maternity leave. While I am nursing the effects of what is likely the first of many colds my son will bring home from daycare (and, as we finish out his second week enrolled, right on the money with my prediction of when it would happen), I feel really good.

I’ll probably write more in-depth about my early postpartum experience later on, but for now I want to talk about how my first days transitioning into my role of “working mom” have felt.

My career and professional identity have always been an important part of who I am and, even before I got pregnant, I was nervous about how balancing the facets of my identity would feel when I became a parent. One of the most challenging parts of these first few months has been the unyielding, around-the-clock nature of baby care, with little opportunity to activate parts of myself other than “mom.” I missed the more cerebral parts of my job, like strategic planning and content development, but also the mundane things like correcting AP Style errors and coordinating print jobs. I missed my coworkers and sending memes on Teams. I missed feeling connected to my creative and thoughtful energy as we navigated surviving the intense, 24-hour circuit of diapers, crying, feeding, and (for me) pumping.

In the early weeks, I wondered if I would ever regain any semblance of the me that existed before me-as-Mom. It didn’t feel like there would ever be room for anything else again. Thankfully, all the friends who told me the acute disorientation of new motherhood would get better before I knew it were right.

Also thankfully, my therapy copays are cheap.

Once we started to learn our boy better (and once he started to learn us and the outside world), I started to feel myself expand to wrap Mom Katlyn together with all the other Katlyns who existed before her. I started painting my nails again, and going on walks (and even runs!), and sewing, and cooking, and so on. We had our first parents’ night out to the Tigers about a month after the baby was born, and started to bring him along on outings we used to enjoy as a family of two, like diner breakfasts and trips to the antique store for our annual Christmas village addition. It became easier to see that, while motherhood is a new, huge part of who I am, it doesn’t have to be the only part.

At first, I felt immense guilt when he started daycare and I was more excited than sad, because so many friends told me to be prepared to be emotional and stressed about the separation. I was excited for him, because we can already tell he’s going to be so smart and so social, but I was also excited for me to release some of the weight of being “on” in active parenting 24/7. Cue the mental stories about being the worst mom ever.

It helped ease the guilt of feeling “selfish” in my excitement to remember that community is just as essential to our baby’s development as an engaged and present Mom and Dad (and also that I can be a good mom and need a break and variety in my own routine). We saw in just days how he started to light up seeing his teachers and engaging with the different activities, and I found myself enjoying our evenings and weekends so much more because I wasn’t so fatigued by the end of the day, every day. As much as I told myself I wouldn’t buy into any of the many ways society tries to shame and guilt moms and parents as a whole, no matter what choices they make ― those lies are pretty much always on sale and easy to throw into your cart.

Like I said, thankfully my therapy copays are cheap (haha).

Knowing that our son is enjoying this new routine made it easier to give myself permission to be excited to return to work. But what also helps is coming back to an environment worth coming back to. Like I said, my work has always been important to me…but it hasn’t always been kind to me. Knowing that I was returning to a place that allows me to show up as my whole self, not just as a KPI machine, means that I don’t feel the pressure to pretend I’m the exact same person I was three months ago. I am incredibly lucky to work somewhere that consistently instills trust in its people to achieve results while also holding space for their humanity. I know I can ask for what I need without fear of being judged as inadequate ― I also know that even when I don’t ask, I will be cared for and checked in on because sacrificing myself for the sake of my work is not something this team asks me to wear like a badge of honor and commitment.

It’s exciting to return to this part of who I am, because I work somewhere that prioritizes me feeling safe and seen. The food bank is a testament to the reality that the more we treat people as whole people with rich lives that work is a component of, rather than the entirety of, the more we set them up to thrive and create and excel. It’s also a testament to how easy it is to really center humanity in your culture, rather than just performing the idea of culture. Here, I’m asked to achieve because of who I am rather than in spite of it. I know I can have a rough day after a sleepless night with my baby, or take a break to show off the latest cute picture in my daycare app, or simply be stressed because parenthood is stressful, without worrying I’ll be criticized for not smiling enough or not working hard enough or not compartmentalizing myself enough.

Settling back into the strategic planning, and content development, and AP Style correcting, and coordinating print jobs (about two hours into my first day back), and Teams meme-sending has been easier than I imagined. I knew I missed this “me,” but I didn’t realize how much until the first meeting I was in with my management team talking about what’s possible for our department now that we’re fully staffed. Feeling everything start to settle back into place within me has been almost as satisfying as making progress on the break room puzzle (maybe even more satisfying…). I wish I could reach back in time to myself in the first few weeks after birth and tell her she’ll be okay, and she’ll find the space.

Closing out this first week back, I’m tired, but tired in the way that you are after a good workout ― thoroughly exerted and proud of my strength.

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