I've been with Company X for over 12 years now, with 10 of those under the supervision of my manager, Winnie. From day one, I've been the apple of her eye, as she sees me as an outstanding team member. When given a task, I give it my all, and I'm grateful that my dedication is reflected in my work, earning me credit and trust from Winnie. Our relationship goes beyond professional; we get along like good friends. Winnie has always provided me with opportunities to grow, pushing me out of my comfort zone with projects and leadership trainings. She praises me proudly to higher management, recognising my value to the team. Her support has been invaluable, and I'm thankful to have her as a manager.
Most people know how highly Winnie regards me; in fact, they see me as her assistant. When she's unavailable, they naturally come to me for assistance, even on unfamiliar topics. Whenever she goes on annual leave, I am her usual out-of-office contact. Winnie encourages me to achieve more and pushes me to think at her level, often telling me, "You will be a Senior Manager one day."
Two years ago, she was pregnant with her second child. When the HR director asked her who she would nominate to take over her role in the interim, it goes without saying that she nominated me. She trusted that I could do the job and again, was giving me the opportunity to grow. I took it on and did it for about 12 months.
It was undeniably tough and incredibly challenging, I must confess. At that time, my daughter was nearing 2.5 years old and had started attending childcare. If you're familiar with childcare centers, you know they're notorious for spreading germs. Like many others, my daughter fell sick every two weeks for about nine months straight. When she was unwell, I often caught whatever she had. This meant working from home and missing numerous office interactions with my teams. The guilt weighed heavily on me, both as a Senior Manager at work and as a mother to my child. I felt unable to give my full attention to either role. For instance, when my daughter was sick, she craved more cuddles from me. Yet, I still had to work. I recall vividly the occasions when I had to join important meetings with the Directors, dialing in from home. I had to leave my crying daughter alone in her room so I could participate in the "crucial" meetings without interruption. It broke my heart to hear her cries, knowing all she wanted was her mother's comfort while she was unwell. The guilt was overwhelming. Additionally, I felt remorseful for being the only person participating in these "significant" meetings via Teams call, unable to attend in person due to my child's illness. The same scenario unfolded during team meetings, which I organised. While all 22 of my staff members attended in person, I dialed in from home. I felt guilty for not being physically present in the office to support my team members when they needed me most. Although my team members understood my predicament, it didn't change the fact that a business leader's presence is crucial when required, and half the time, I was absent. My frequent illnesses had rendered my team members immune to it; I could discern it from their reactions each time I informed them of my sickness, occurring repetitively every 2-3 weeks. Therefore, when my boss returned from her maternity leave, I was ecstatic! I could finally return to my less-demanding role and bid farewell to those feelings of guilt.
Two years later, I fell pregnant with my second child. During my maternity leave, I received a call from my boss, informing me of her decision to leave the company for other opportunities. She assured me that she had recommended me to her boss and the HR director for her position, given my prior experience. However, due to company compliance, the role had to be advertised and undergo the standard HR process instead of immediate appointment. It was widely speculated among my colleagues that I would be the natural choice for the role, as rumours circulated while the job ad was circulated.
While there's a strong likelihood that my application would secure the job, considering my prior experience of almost a year, I've ultimately chosen not to apply. Reflecting on my current situation with two children, compared to when I struggled with just one, I recognise the increased challenges. Despite my natural ambition and willingness to seize opportunities, my priorities have shifted since becoming a mother. While I would have eagerly pursued this role in the past, my focus now is on being present for my children. I don't want to risk neglecting them or experiencing the guilt I felt two years ago. Though the prospect of a pay rise is enticing, my family's well-being takes precedence.
With a mix of determination and heaviness in my heart, I informed my boss that I wouldn't be pursuing her role. Despite feeling a sense of guilt and the weight of potentially letting her down after all the support she's shown me, I made the decision for the sake of being a better mother to my children. Thankfully, my boss, who is also a mother of two, completely understood my reasoning and respected my choice. Though there was a hint of disappointment, she acknowledged that I was prioritising my family's needs, and that meant a lot to me.
A few weeks later, my boss bid farewell to the company. Shortly after, a company email arrived, introducing the individual who would be assuming my boss's role. This meant a transition to a new boss for me. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. I pondered, "Could that have been me?" Why did I pass up the opportunity? However, as I glance at my two daughters, I am quickly reminded of my priority: putting family first.
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