This piece is part of our “Act II: Career changes after motherhood” series, where we dive into the personal stories of locals who shifted careers (and often reinvented themselves) after parenthood. Read the full feature here, including other stories of Seattleites who made a post-child career move, and tips from experts on how to make a successful post-parenthood career shift.
I met my husband over a dead body.
I mean that literally. We were both newspaper reporters at the time, covering a body discovered in an abandoned minivan. It was my first day in his newsroom and we hadn’t yet met when two different editors sent us to the same story. Standing on the railroad tracks above the minivan, I did my best to block his view and sabotage his reporting. I was all about the scoop back then. Ultimately, the editors discovered their error and made us write the piece together. The rest, as they say, is history. I loved living on the edge of a breaking story, writing about serial killers, hanging out with detectives in seedy bars, and making midnight calls to police stations and county medical investigators in search of news. Being a reporter was who I was. It was my identity, full stop.
Then, in the most significant news scoop of my life, my daughter was born. The minute she was published, I went from being a New York Times writer wannabe to being MADDY’S MOM. Less than a month later, afraid to bring home the energy of the gruesome news to my sweet baby, I put in my notice and walked out of daily journalism forever.
Let me be clear: being Maddy’s mom was wonderful (and it still is 30 years later). But in walking away from daily news I walked right into an identity crisis. By the time my second child was two years old, it was clear that I not only needed to return to work but I also needed a new work identity, one aligned with my newish motherform.
Strangely, I found it in the birth experience itself. I say strangely because before I got pregnant, I thought midwifery was a relic of medieval times, and a doula sounded like what a dog did on the grass. But then I met a midwife and a doula. The physical and emotional care they provided before, during, and after my kids’ births was so profound I found myself returning again and again to ask,
“Could I do that?”
It turned out I could. I took the first steps and trained and certified as a doula. It felt right, so I continued my training and built a practice, starting slow and widening as my kids became more independent. I’ve continued learning: I can say without any doubt that every one of the more than 2,000 families I’ve worked with has taught me something important, not just medically, but about love, commitment, and the strength of the human spirit.
I view the two years I spent caring for young children at home as a doorway from one passion to another. It was in that space that I asked myself important new questions: Not what am I good at, but what am I passionate about? Do I have the interest, discipline, and family support to try something new? Is there a way to continue the part of the old work that I loved (writing) within a new career? Who do I want to be for myself and my children? Will changing careers get me closer to that person? How will this new work fit into family relationships and obligations?
Changing careers takes work and determination. Being self-employed takes focus, structure, and a commitment to finding a work-life balance. It also took some negotiation — my husband had to be willing to care for kids when a birth took me out of the house for a day or three. Birthworkers are on call 24/7, and most long-term doulas and midwives miss birthdays and holidays that their families wish they wouldn’t miss.
Still, few people can look back on their work and see a town of faces looking back at them. I take a lot of pride in that. Over the years, new moms have asked me about changing careers after a child arrives. “Should I? Can I?” they ask. I am a cheerleader. I encourage young parents, especially those who stay home for some time, to use time with their young family to dream for themselves. No idea is too big or too small. You don’t have to make a change all at once. There is a way.
Not long ago, I retired from the birthing room. You could say I have returned to my first career path while remaining connected to the last. As the managing editor of Seattle’s Child magazine, I am still learning from parents. As a writing workshop leader I am indulging my interests in travel and building community. Just as I was with those old detectives and in the newsroom, I am living my passions.
Read more
Act II: Dads make a career changes after parenthood, too | Fourteen years ago, Nick Nordberg’s circumstances would have been the makings of a mid-life crisis. Instead of letting his situation weigh him down, Nordberg, a Puyallup resident, turned his circumstances into a mid-life opportunity.
Act II: Flexing at Lions and Tigers | After giving birth to her son, Brea Starmer wanted to work at a different pace even as she craved the challenging, high-level projects that had built her consulting career. Her career change after motherhood means she’s CEO of Lions & Tigers, a flexible consulting firm offering high-level expertise with part-time, remote work for parents.
Act II: From cosmetics to the classroom | Having a child with autism, changed Alexis White’s trajectory. She decided in 2022 that she needed to expand her teaching skills by making a career change after motherhood. Today she’s doing just that as an instructional assistant at Stevens Elementary in Seattle.
