Help! I Hate... My Return to Work

Every week, The Art Journal's resident artworld Agony Aunt Charlotte Jansen answers your questions about access, gatekeeping and sticky social problems

Have a burning question for her? Get in touch anonymously here.

I’ve recently returned to work after a year of maternity leave. I’m finding it much harder than I expected.

Before I had my baby, I enjoyed my work and put in long hours to build my career. I always assumed I’d be ready to go back, but now the thought of leaving my child all day fills me with guilt and concern. During the day, I miss being with them – especially when I see new mums with their babies in buggies.

I’m also worried that I’ve lost my confidence. Shortly before becoming pregnant, I began a new role at a large organisation. Now I’m back, I still feel the pressure to prove myself, be present and perform above and beyond. 

My partner and I had planned our child’s care meticulously for my first week back at my job, only for me to be told almost immediately that I was expected to travel across the UK for a two night business trip. We barely had any time to plan for it. Yet, I felt if I said anything, I’d be letting my employer and colleagues down – and they would judge me accordingly. 

I’m anxious about balancing my work in this unfamiliar environment with my home life and childcare. I constantly feel I’m letting someone down, that I am not where I’m supposed to be. I don’t know if this is normal, or if I have made the wrong decision by returning to this role. How do I cope with the guilt and anxiety? Is there a way to make this transition easier?

I feel you on this one. I really feel you. What you’re describing is something many working parents, and, I’m going to say, especially working mothers, experience. But somehow, it doesn’t feel that common when you’re going through it. The surges and plummets in hormones, the sleepless nights, the sicknesses, feeding and visceral longing. It is an alienating and often silent anguish that many of us are too scared to really speak about. It becomes a kind of self–censorship – which may be part of the reason things don’t change. 

Returning to work after having a baby – especially your first baby – is not simply going back to an old routine. You’re a completely different person, and your perspective on life and work has probably changed irrevocably. In your case, this already huge change has also involved a change in your workplace and environment. That’s a lot.  

You’re grieving, in a way. You’re acknowledging the passing of time, you’re watching your child becoming more independent, less orientated around you. You’ve left behind a stage of life that was precious to you – the most precious, your time with your firstborn.  It’s no surprise that seeing parents walking in the sun with their babies stirs something within you. Missing your child during the day doesn’t mean you’re unsuited to going back to work – those feelings can and will exist alongside enjoying your career. 

What stands out most in your words is not the guilt but the pressure. You’ve started a new role in a new place and are being asked to travel long distances with very little notice. Anyone would find that stressful, let alone someone navigating childcare for the first time straight after maternity leave. You felt unable to say: “I need to think about how this will work for my family.” That suggests you’re carrying an expectation that you have to prove yourself by never being inconvenient. I think this is a very female tendency in the workplace – sorry to gender it, but it’s something I have overwhelmingly noticed, and still do myself. We constantly force our square selves into round holes, we play down our domestic issues, we go through horrors and trauma within our bodies, but we don’t say a word.

Preparing for a regular week at the office with a wholly reliant baby at home requires mental and physical gymnastics. But your preparation was then completely upended by inconsiderate demands from your employer. Trust me, I can relate to it. Let me share a glimpse of my own experience: I took an unpaid, unsupported period of maternity leave from my job at a magazine after having my first baby. I had to go back to work for financial reasons when she was around 8 months old. My then boss told me on the phone that I could return for one day a week, not the four I had previously worked, “because you have a kid now, and they get sick.” For that one office day, my employer insisted I make myself present in their office, on the other side of London from where I lived. I was a solo parent at the time, so, to prepare for that one day, I had to ask my mum to travel 156km into London, stay overnight and take care of my daughter for the working day. Luckily, she agreed to do it. But, when I arrived at the magazine at 10am on the dot, with my pre–sterilised breast pump equipment packed in my bag, I found the office door locked. No–one was there and I didn’t have a key. 

I texted a colleague. “Oh, no–one will be in until after 12 today,” came the reply. I slumped down against the door. I later found out they had let the intern work from home because he had a bit of a cold. 

I wanted to poke my own eyes out with a biro. But, once that feeling had subsided, I decided I needed to channel the rage into something productive. I vowed at that moment to be completely honest about my needs, even if they came at a risk. No-one in that office had children; they didn’t really know what I was going through. I needed to communicate more. Colleagues don't understand, or they forget what it’s like. If I had explained, if I had been braver and pushed back more, I wouldn’t have had to go through all of that. 

I know it’s hard to advocate for yourself when you’re probably feeling the least confident you’ve ever felt at work. But I would suggest that setting reasonable boundaries is not the same as lacking commitment. Employers benefit from having talented people who are open about what they need in order to do their best work. If a request creates genuine practical difficulties for your home life, it’s perfectly acceptable to ask whether there is flexibility or time to make arrangements. Most organisations would rather have that conversation than have an employee silently overwhelmed – and possibly quit. It can feel like extra work to have to speak up against the system and set out new ways for doing things. But I consider this fight, even when it's exhausting, is our collective fight as working mothers. If we don’t do it, things won’t improve. 

It’s also worth challenging the impossible standards you have set yourself. You write as though your choices are either to be an exceptional employee or an exceptional parent. Real life is not like that. Some days, work will need more of you. Other days, your family will. Balance isn't something you achieve every day. We’re still living in a patriarchal society, after all, where the school day ends at 3pm and parents are supposed to be at work until 6pm. Even if you’re lucky enough to have the finances and support that is realistically required to handle it all, it can still fall apart. Sometimes kids need you and you have to drop everything, regardless of what it is. That’s the nature of parenting.

In the art world, as I suspect is the case in any industry, employers don’t yet fully understand and appreciate how all the things we learn as mothers – exceptional time management and organisational skills, empathy, the ability to handle stress, commitment, loyalty – also benefit them.  So, if the anxiety continues to feel overwhelming, don’t carry it alone. Talk to your partner about sharing the emotional load as well as the practical one. If you have a supportive manager, consider having a meaningful conversation about your transition back to work. Many employers are more understanding than we might imagine, particularly when they know what challenges someone is facing. I have found people I have worked with to be far more accommodating than I ever anticipated – once I was candid about my own needs. 

A final thought. Your child is being cared for. You’re building a career you’ve worked hard for. You’re demonstrating what dedication, resilience and love look like in practice. Those things are not in conflict – they’re part of the same story. And things won’t always feel this way. You already know how fast children grow and how quickly their needs change. You will adapt, as you already have.