Productivity During Maternity Leave

Unwinding my worth from my output

I will be 40 weeks pregnant on Saturday — my “due date”^[1] — and will officially start my maternity leave once the baby is born. She could be born any day and the anticipation of my leave from work has left me feeling anxious. Excited too, but the feelings of anxiety lead to more spirals, more guilt, more material to write about.

Our culture of work — at least here in the US — is hyper-capitalistic. Focused on obtaining the maximum output with maximum efficiency, with desired output never ceasing to increase. We live in a culture that celebrates how much we work. The number of hours becomes a point of pride, eventually tied with worthiness and value. We define success by how much money we make, which we believe is correlated to how hard we work. (Although apparently Gen Z canceled this “hustle culture,” prioritizing “work-life balance” and aiming to create careers out of their passions so work does not feel like work at all.) When I was in private practice, my success was literally defined by how many hours I worked. No matter whether a law firm states they take other metrics into account (participation in recruiting, diversity events, business development, etc.), if you have any desire to rise to the level of partnership, falling beneath your hours is a no go. I got caught in this trap, my self-worth tied to the number of hours I billed, and spent countless more hours unwinding the two.

Although I no longer bill hours (thankfully) and my worth is nowhere near tied to the number of hours I work, I still fall into the productivity trap — where every daily activity must be productive, must lead to some sort of product. There must exist an output. Not much play. Every work-related task, or career-related activity, is automatically placed in the “productive” category. There is a very clear output and the reward falls at the height of capitalist values. I’m paid for it, after all.

But what about time spent not working? My “free” time? Still, I pressure myself to ensure my time falls into the “productive” category. I would pressure myself to read more nonfiction because I would be “learning something.” Even now, when I read fiction, I notice myself paying attention to the writing style to improve my own writing, with my dreams of writing a book (and getting paid to do so) hovering in the back of my mind. My defining of these categories—productive vs. not productive—feels arbitrary and inauthentic. Based on some other ideal that does not truly belong to me. Why is seeking joy not enough?

During the pandemic, I created watercolor collages. These collages weren’t going to end up for sale in a gallery. Or on display at the National Gallery of Art. I was not going to become a famous watercolor collagist. But even though creating these collages was a form of creative play, providing me with an opportunity to be present and exercise my mind differently, I noticed the temptation to rush through, the lingering voice on my shoulder that I should move on to a more “productive” activity. The same voice belonging to the part of me caught up with how others perceive me. Or, really, how I perceive how others perceive me. (There really is no way for me to know how I am perceived.)

We struggle to work hard when there is no clear reward that moves us closer to meeting society’s definition of success — a definition driven by money and status, even if on an individual level, we care more about having a meaningful life. This research study explored how we define success and “what individuals personally prioritize (personal priorities) and what they believe most others in society prioritize (perceived societal priorities).” It found that individual Americans will choose character over status in how they define success for themselves, but they incorrectly believe most Americans would prioritize status. Similarly, individuals ranked being rich in the bottom third of all priorities, but believed that most other people would rank being rich as the single highest priority of all. The data demonstrates our perception of what others value in terms of success is skewed. We falsely believe that others value money and status more than things like making a positive impact, involvement in the community, and having a purpose in life. But where does that belief lead us when factoring in our desire to feel accepted by others and by the broader community? Does this belief (even if false) leave us conditioned to pursue goals that align with this belief rather than our own view of what it means to be successful?

Reading Lucy Jones’s Matrescence has sparked my own examination of the value I ascribe to motherhood. Jones very aptly discusses the impact of the patriarchy on the expectations of mothers — particularly, the belief that all women have an innate mothering capability, not needing to learn anything. This leads to women feeling guilty, inadequate, and even a failure when they may struggle with various aspects of motherhood.

[P]atriarchy—had turned motherhood into a “modern institution,” with its own rules, strictures and social expectations, all of which were designed to control women’s behavior and thought. . . . The institution fostered the idea that women are born with a “natural” maternal “instinct” rather than needing to develop knowledge and skills as caregivers. The uneven power relations between mother and child were, [Adrienne Rich in her book Of Woman Born] argued, a reflection of power dynamics in society. It was a setup, in which mothers were destined to fail.

Yet, this same social structure places higher value on traditional forms of “work” than mothering. We’ve seen this theme arise in the feminist movement that attaches more value to working moms. Mothers who defy stereotypes and break glass ceilings. All at the expense of other women. Mothers who choose to stay home or take a step back from their careers. At times, I’ve shamefully adopted that seemingly feminist ideal — but judging other women for their personal choices is, at bottom, the most un-feminist act.

The working mother is both celebrated and criticized. Celebrated because they “set an example” for their children that women can have careers in a male-dominated world. That women can achieve anything—that we can “have it all.” Ceilings shatter.

But at the same time, the stay-at-home mom is also both celebrated and criticized. Celebrated for devoting her time to her family, and criticized—particularly by other women—for not pushing back on the assumptions of a woman’s role.^[2] And so, we’re destined to lose.

It is because of my conditioning that a particular belief creeps in my mind, quickly shooed away by the shame it evokes. The belief that just mothering contains less value than focusing more intensely on career ambitions. Because, with mothering, there is no direct output or product recognized by society. With mothering, the mother and perhaps her partner are the only ones who see, close-up, the fruits of their decades-long labor: a real human being who grows into an adult. If only capitalism recognized that as the ultimate product.

As I approach the start of my maternity leave, I am still anxious. My leave is a forced break from the productivity trap. Where I am left to focus on activities that capitalism and the patriarchy do not define as productive. Where instead, I am to focus on caring for my baby and my own healing—resisting the capitalist notion that I should “bounce right back.”^[3]

I’ve noticed myself caveat my upcoming leave to colleagues by promising to be available in an emergency. By promising to review drafts of an upcoming court filing. By arranging a system by which the second lawyer at the organization can send me weekly update emails. By envisioning how I will fit reviewing messages into my leave, perhaps during 2am feeds, so I don’t come back with an overwhelming backlog of thousands.

I find myself comparing my leave to the leave of men in my industry. Pressuring myself to “do what a man can do” — the rebel part of myself that seeks to push back against society’s expectations and assumptions. Refusing to accept that this period is inherently different for me because over the past 39.5 weeks, my body has metamorphosed into an alien home, pushing the rest of my insides aside to make room for another creature. Even creating a whole other organ to support this creature’s development. Knowing all the while that the start of my leave will also mark the start of a sudden vacancy in my body, with my insides slowly reconfiguring themselves, but with my body still remaining a food source and my brain forever changed.

My leave-related anxiety touches on my fear of not being valued; my desire to feel indispensable, reliable, and to be perceived as excellent. And it all boils down to how I ascribe value and define what is productive.

As I work (pun intended) to unwind my definition of productivity, and my reliance on productivity as a marker for my self-worth, I consider what it would mean to lean into this three-month period of total devotion to my transition into motherhood—my matrescence—and to nurturing my daughter’s entrance into this world.

I fear losing my independent identity, but also know that this identity will undoubtedly change. The unknown of how leaves me feeling uneasy. Perhaps leaning into this period will make it easier to approach it with curiosity, rather than fear and anxiety. Just as I pasted birth affirmations underneath my bathroom mirror, perhaps I will need reminders that I am in a period of transformation, that by too soon engaging too heavily in work-related matters, I would be pushing myself away from that transformation and ultimately straying from my most aligned desires, goals, and values. That by choosing to allow this transition to be all-consuming—perhaps at the expense of impressing a colleague by my ability to “do it all” and the subsequent validation that yields—I rebel against the system that led to this anxiety-ridden trap in the first place.

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And, as always, some recent photos.

I have been in total awe watching the hydrangeas bloom this season.

Speaking of matrescence, you can see mama and hundreds of recently hatched babies exploring their web above her.

Lush summer trails near our house.

Even though the falls are a five minute drive, it is always hard to walk away.

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^[1] Studies have found that the “due date” would more accurately be 40 weeks and 5 days, especially for first time moms. https://evidencebasedbirth.com/evidence-on-due-dates/.

^[2] This is all putting aside that some women choose to stay home because it is more economical given the cost of childcare and that the rate of pay for women still falls below that of men. And putting aside that many other women have no choice and must work outside the home to support their family because the cost of living in this country makes it unrealistic for many families to survive on a single income.

^[3] The number of google search results for articles about how to “bounce back after baby” is absolutely terrifying.