Sharing at work
I must admit, before we had children, I truly had no idea how working parents “did it.” I was over-zealous about volunteering (probably annoyingly so) for things that I thought might ease the burden on colleagues with children. I had no idea what babies “needed”, so I over-bought for baby showers and made meals for everyone I knew when they had children. True to my personality, I figured when our time came, we’d just “figure it out.” At very least, I figured, we’d have 9 months of pregnancy to come up with a plan. I thought I’d probably put off telling people at work until I was visibly pregnant. But, having biological children was not our path.
A few years before we began the formal process of adopting, we knew this would be our path. I was at a career transition, and moving across the country for my career was a very real possibility. We decided we would start the adoption process once we knew where we would be living for the foreseeable future. Once I accepted my new long-term position, it took about a year to do all the paperwork, complete our homestudy and enter “the pool”. We made special trips to tell our parents and a couple friends who we consider family. Only then did we start the conversation of “who we would tell at work.” Since I wasn’t pregnant, there was no looming deadline to share by, so I didn’t say much of anything. I ended up telling a single person - more or less by accident. A couple months into our wait, I had an afternoon meeting with a friend and colleague of mine. We both had been at work since the early hours, and wanted some daylight. We decided to “meet” several blocks away at a coffee shop. We were talking causally on the way to coffee, and all of a sudden he mentioned that he was going through steps to try and adopt a child. I stopped walking. “Me too” I told him.
A month or so later, he stopped by our home and ended up staying for dinner, while my husband Josh was at the gym. We got “the call” while we my colleague and I were chatting over dessert, and Josh was walking home from the gym. Josh and I left for the hospital before the dishes were done, and our lives were forever changed. The next morning, I emailed my closest colleagues and told them I was a new mom and wouldn’t be at work the next week. People were surprised, to say the least.
I felt no remorse for not telling people sooner.
Fast forward a couple of years, and so much had changed. As I became more established in my career, I was astutely aware that what I did not say often had as much weight as what I did say. I had learned that if I never mentioned my family to younger scientists who were contemplating their own futures, I could unintentionally send the message that valuing family was not expected or encouraged. With this in mind, I started to slowly share more of my personal life with colleagues, and people who looked to me as a mentor.
The other thing that changed was that - happily - I was a parent. I worked from home when my daughter was sick or school was out. I left early so I could make gymnastics class or swim lessons or soccer or the school play. People love to ask parents “when are you having another?”. For a while I responded “we’re not sure,” assuming the actual answer was too complicated for most to process.
When my daughter was about two and a half, things started to change for me. We had been “in the pool” for over a year (already 5-6 times longer than our entire first wait for our daughter). When we did meet our second child - and I was convinced this would happen at the last minute again - I would no longer have the excuse that there was “just no time to let people at work know.” I also found myself feeling increasingly responsible for creating an environment that was supportive of parents and families. My role as a leader at work had grown over time, I was in the minority as a woman in my position, and more people where looking to me for guidance. I felt particularly responsible for setting a good example for other women, as I had very few female role models in my career. One long term mentor was fond of saying “under no circumstances should your personal life impact your career.” I felt responsible for showing that he was wrong, and that there were many paths to career success that included dedication to family.
I also learned a great deal from my own daughter. By two-and-a-half her personality had fully emerged: she is bold, brilliant, determined and empathetic. She is a daily reminder that allowing the status quo to continue won’t best serve the next generation.
Over time, I cautiously started to be a bit more open about our adoption wait. When close colleagues asked “when we were having another,” I answered, “I hope, soon, but you don’t control timing with an adoption.” When I spoke as part of women in science panels, I sometimes told the story of adopting our daughter, and encouraged younger women to not put unnecessary restrictions on themselves by defining a “right” and “wrong” time to have children. When others asked me how I juggled it all, I did a quick check-in with myself about how much I felt prepared to share. I sometimes laughed it off (my favorite response when I didn’t feel like talking about it was “this life is very careful balance of caffeine, ibuprofen and endorphins”…. true but not terribly informative), and other times said it was not easy - but for me and my family, worth it. I sometimes said the adoption wait made all other things in life seem easy. Everyone meant well, but it stung every single time I was asked how “the adoption was going.” I think I got good at saying “we won’t know until it’s happening” with a smile, but it was never not hard.
When, after nearly three years in “the pool,” we finally got the call that we had been chosen by his birth parents to parent our son. I was putting the final touches on a multi-million dollar grant, due the next day. I texted my collaborator, telling him he was going to have to take this one to the finish line alone, with no other explanation. This was and is very unlike me, and he didn’t ask questions. If he had, I likely wouldn’t have responded. The next day, I texted a photo of myself holding my newborn son at the hospital. He was no less surprised than the first time around.
There is no universal right answer of when and how to tell people at work. As you come up with your own plan, a few questions to consider:
Are there ways that your transition to parental leave would be impacted by colleagues knowing you are waiting for an adoption?
How would being asked “how is your adoption wait going?” impact you during your wait?
Are there ways that sharing your story would help others?
How often do you currently get asked about wanting kids? How do these questions make you feel?
You can also read about Jessica’s perspective on sharing at work here.
