Even though there’s been a lot of progress lately in terms of hiring and empowering women within the accounting profession, both nationwide and globally, we’ve still got a long way to go. According to
Even leaving aside the pandemic’s strain and diversity goals, the reality is that, within Corporate America, women don’t receive a lot of support once they begin their journey to motherhood. Rather, they feel vulnerable, pressured by the demands to balance both worlds and burdened by the fear that the mere news of their “condition” might topple them from their hard-earned spot on the corporate ladder — which is often exactly the case.
That’s what I did this year, too.
My first pregnancy was 10 years ago, soon after celebrating my 30th birthday. Having transitioned from work as a senior associate in a Big Four firm, I had just wrapped up an exciting first year at Schellman & Co. as an executive vice president. At that time, I became the 10-year-old firm’s first-ever pregnant employee, and when I approached the firm’s founder with the news, he sat down with me and wrote up the inaugural maternity policy. With my employer granting me the benefit of time off, I felt immensely supported — so comfortable that there was no fear of derailing my career. I publicized my pregnancy at the 12-week mark by posting photos on social media, allowed my colleagues and managers to take on some of my workload in my absence, and spent quality time with my newborn. Three years later, I was pregnant again and lucky to experience the same scenario.
Ten years after the first pregnancy, though, Baby No. 3 came knocking, and things felt different. Now 40 years old, I’ve balanced motherhood with two children while climbing the corporate ranks to now become the president of that same CPA firm. When I accepted that promotion and the resulting new responsibilities, I never expected another baby would soon join the mix. So when it happened, I knew instantly that I didn’t want to take too much time off just because I’d miss the firm too much, but what irked me the most was that I now felt like I couldn’t. (Requesting leave for more than 12 weeks also meant defining my pregnancy as a “short-term disability,” which floored me as a concept, but I digress.)
Despite how comfortable I’d been at work with my previous pregnancies, I chose to hide this one from everyone until I was 28 weeks in. With this third pregnancy, I now felt what so many other professional moms feel with any and all of theirs — fears plagued me that my clients, coworkers, and community would no longer see me as devoted to the company. They’d assume I’d disappear or neglect them. Now that I was president, they’d fear for the firm’s stability.
At that 28-week mark, I knew my time running was out, so I found the courage to once again approach the company founder and CEO. As my sponsor, he’d always been — and proved again to be — incredibly supportive. “This is wonderful news,” he reassured me. “I know your work ethic and the standards you have for yourself. Sure, there will be challenges, but we’ll be flexible. I have zero concerns. You know women can have kids and work; you’ve done this before.”
We need more people like my sponsor. We need that mentality to spread. But judging from the many anecdotes I’ve heard from other women, my own recent experiences and emotions, plus the plethora of studies and statistics available, he is the exception and not the norm. Somehow, across the greater workforce, society continues to shy away from this notion that women can do both, and do them well.
It’s clear that no matter your age or position, society imposes stigmas and double standards, expecting its superwomen to excel in all arenas without supporting or even acknowledging the double hustle and triple shifts required to maintain the ultimate balance. Society taunts: “You want it all? You need to cope? Then accomplish it. By yourself. Go on, I’ll watch and maybe trip you if you seek your balance.”
The established, unsupportive system punishes both women who choose to keep working and those who choose full-time motherhood. For those that choose to balance, statistics show that working moms are 28% more likely to experience workplace burnout than dads — a situation exacerbated during the pandemic, which has seen nearly 10 million of the 35 million working moms in the U.S. suffer from workplace burnout — almost
Women shouldn’t have to choose between their identity as a successful mother or a successful professional. They should be enabled to excel in both arenas if they so desire, without caveats, just as men are.
Both past and present, women have proven their resilience, strength, and adaptability, time and time again; working moms even more so, having undergone the greatest pain and miracle: childbirth. Somewhat ironically, those experiences of childbirth and motherhood provide the most invaluable life lessons a person can’t attain any other way: how to remain grounded, focused, mindful, organized, attuned to purpose and priority, empathetic, flexible, efficient with time and resources, and committed — all qualities that would and should be valued in the workplace as well.
Women have much to offer, both by contributing to a workforce that badly needs them at a growing rateand by raising the next generation of healthy, happy, productive Americans. All they need in return is support: more flexibility, less stigma, empathetic sponsors, supportive mentors and role models, and a healthier society that instills confidence and pride in women who do seek to “have it all.”
It’s high time society sat up and started taking notes — women have it in them to excel at anything they choose, and if our nation fully supports and empowers them, it’s a win-win scenario for everyone involved.
