There’s this persistent lie that women have been told- that we have to choose. That we can be either a good mother or a career woman. That we can succeed at home or succeed at work. That motherhood should clip our wings instead of giving us new ones.
I used to think that once you had children, you had to stop chasing your dreams. That your world was meant to shrink- to revolve only around bottles, routines, and nursery runs. But I’ve learned that motherhood doesn’t mean the end of your identity. In fact, it’s where mine was redefined.
I’ve lived through that lie- felt the shame of wanting more, the guilt of not doing enough, the exhaustion of trying to do everything. I’ve cried in the car, broken down in the shower, smiled through tears, and still got up the next day to keep going. I’ve faced heartache, trauma, loneliness, and immense pressure. But I never gave up. Because I had a dream, and because I had children who depended on me- not just to survive, but to show them what’s possible.
But before I became a mother, before I became a solicitor, before I ever knew how strong I truly was- I was a 19-year-old girl who fell in love.
And it wasn’t just any kind of love- it was the kind that wraps around your whole being, the kind that convinces you that this is it, that you’ve found your person. But it was also the kind that slowly broke me. The kind that looked like love on the outside but was laced with control, hurt, and confusion. A trauma bond. A toxic cycle. I didn’t know those words back then, I just knew that I was constantly chasing a version of happiness I never quite reached.
Trying to build a life- a career, a home, a future- while being emotionally tethered to something that was hurting me was soul-destroying. Every achievement felt dulled by the emotional weight I was carrying. I was stuck between the woman I was becoming and the girl who still needed saving. And yet, I kept going.
That’s the thing about trauma- it doesn’t care if you have deadlines or babies to feed. It lives in the background, whispering that you’re not good enough, that you’ll never make it, that everything will fall apart. Even now, with everything I’ve achieved, that voice still sometimes finds me. My confidence, at times, still trembles. But I keep showing up. I keep striving to be a better version of myself- not for the world, but for me and for my children.
My journey really began when I moved to Leeds to study law. I was young, ambitious, and full of hope. I threw myself into university life, determined to make something of myself. After three years of study, I started working at a law firm in Roundhay, staying in Leeds for a fourth year.
Then in 2015, my life changed- I found out I was pregnant. I moved back home to be closer to family, but I didn’t quit my job in Leeds. Instead, I began commuting four hours a day- two there, two back- while carrying a child and carrying on with my career.
But I didn’t stop there. That same year, I started the Legal Practice Course. I worked Monday to Friday and spent my weekends at the University of Law. My son was born in November, and I barely paused for breath. I studied while he slept, cried from exhaustion in between lectures, and fought every day to keep moving forward.
But life had more tests in store for me. During my second year of the Legal Practice Course, I found out I was pregnant again. With my daughter. And still, I didn’t stop. I revised while rocking a newborn to sleep. A week after giving birth, I was driving myself to Leeds to sit my exams. I was physically drained, emotionally raw, and navigating heartbreak behind the scenes. But I kept going. Because I had to. Because quitting was never an option.
And this is where people often say, “You’re amazing. I don’t know how you did it.”
But the truth is, I didn’t feel amazing. I felt broken, lonely, overwhelmed. I felt like I was failing at everything- work, motherhood, life. I was a single mum of two under two, waking at 5am, doing nursery drop-offs, commuting for hours, trying to focus in the office while worrying about the cost of nappies and milk, and rushing back to pick them up before 6pm. Most nights, I didn’t eat until the kids were in bed. I’d collapse on the sofa, dishes in the sink, clothes still in the washing machine, deadlines looming, heart still healing, and somehow find the strength to do it all again the next day.
And still, I kept going.
Those years were the hardest of my life. There were days I couldn’t breathe from the stress. Days when my bank balance gave me anxiety. Days when I’d miss nursery pick-up by minutes and cry in the car park, feeling like the worst mother in the world.
There was no break. No ‘off’ button. No one to take over when I felt like collapsing. I had to be everything to everyone- solicitor, mother, driver, cleaner, cook, counsellor, accountant, organiser, and emotional safety net. I was juggling a demanding job, nursery runs, exam deadlines, broken sleep, heartbreak, and the constant pressure of trying to do it all. And let me be honest- I struggled. I still do.
We don’t talk enough about the mental load of working mothers, especially single mothers. It’s not just the job and the kids- it’s the 100 invisible tasks that fill your brain at every moment of the day. It’s remembering PE kits and dentist appointments, paying nursery fees, working overtime, organising food shops, changing bedding, wiping tears, replying to school emails, cleaning the house, managing finances, writing to-do lists that never end. It’s living in constant motion. And it’s utterly exhausting.
But it’s also powerful. Because somehow, we do it. We make it work. Even when we’re running on empty, we get up. We push forward. We show up.
I finally qualified as a solicitor in 2019, after years of grinding away behind the scenes. That same year, I made the decision to buy my first home- a safe and happy place for me and my children. I went back to full-time work, took a job in Doncaster, and later accepted a role even closer to home. In the same month, I got the keys to our very own house. And in that moment, I realised: I did this. Through the trauma. Through the setbacks. Through the heartache. I made it.
And I’m proud. Not just of the qualifications, or the job title- but of the life I’ve built. A stable, comfortable, loving home for my children. A career I’m passionate about. A future I shaped with my own two hands. But I couldn’t have done it without the support of my family- they helped me raise my children while I raised my dreams.
Do I still struggle? Yes. Do I still question myself? All the time. But I know now that being a mother is not a limitation- it’s a source of strength. It’s made me more resilient, more compassionate, more determined than I ever knew I could be.
We live in a world that wasn’t built with working mums in mind- but we navigate it like superheroes. Every day, we fight invisible battles. We carry more than anyone sees. We work twice as hard to prove ourselves in offices where our priorities are questioned. And still, we love fiercely, lead boldly, and build beautiful lives- for our children and ourselves.
Motherhood taught me that boundaries are essential. That not everyone is meant to come with you on your healing journey. That peace is more important than pleasing. As we grow older, we realise our energy is sacred- and mine now goes into my children. Into building a future that’s safe, joyful, and full of love. Into healing. Into rebuilding myself from the inside out.
I am not perfect. I am still working on myself, every single day. But I am proud. I am resilient. I am here- living, breathing proof that you can fall apart and rise again. That you can be broken and still build something beautiful. That you can be both- a loving, present mother and a driven, successful professional.
So if you’re a mum reading this and feeling like you’re failing- you’re not. You are powerful. You are doing the impossible every single day. And you don’t need to choose between being a good mum and a successful woman. You can be both. You already are.
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