What if there's no bridge until you build one?

"Cross the bridge when you come to it"

We have heard this often, in different contexts, and at different points in life.

At first, it even sounds like terrific advice.

It helps us keep focused on the present job.

It steers us clear of unwarranted delays due to overthinking.

It even helps us shoot down the paper tigers of fears and anxieties.

Only, here is what peeves me when we hand this advice out - regularly and nonchalantly - to young women at workplaces.

Because, well.

It doesn't work!

It doesn't cut it for some situations they will systematically find themselves in, in just a few years' time.

One such situation is, indeed, what we are talking about today: 

New Motherhood. 

In my role at LIGHTHOUSE I get to work very regularly with the DEI verticals of corporate organisations. In such capacities, I work with Storytelling & Narrative Programs for women leaders, seasoned professionals, and then... New Mothers.

In my initial conversations with the stakeholders, I often sense an alarming concern for "mothers" who may not return to work. Many of the program specifications I receive and discoveries I made through the initial conversations, as well no less with my own lived experiences and that of my many women friends, brought me to understand this:

Unpreparedness and loneliness are big-ticket items for new motherhood.

Especially, as women working (out of home), and navigating the terrain of motherhood for the first time, the happy news isn't always simple to navigate.

And the time that it hits hardest is the time the woman is a vulnerable new mother, with the collective and conflicting overwhelm of her new responsibilities and old business as usual.

They say it takes a village to grow a child. In these times with so many of us living away from our hometown for work, we are the whole village. Add to that the optimistic yet still abysmal realities in the balance in the share of parenting between genders. 

For her to recall and stay inspired about her long-term career aspirations, while losing her sense of earlier self-identity to two-hourly breast-feeding, diaper changing and doubling up for the missing nanny on a sudden Tuesday, cannot be easy.

I know these all too well, personally.

While quite a few organsations are working on this as a strategic priority and support with policies, the changed reality around a new mother remain overwhelming.

Corporate policies and provisions are alone not enough to deal with the doubts, difficulties and disasters of her new reality.

She needs care and concern.

She needs connection.

She needs culture!

And I wonder how - while the world makes technological progress in leaps and bounds - we as women are still at times left striving to catch our bus. And worse, it often seems no one even noticed we didn't board it all right.

"Cross the bridge when you come to it" - they say.

Here's the thing: we are routinely taught to not think or talk about it until we have a medical report in hand and have confirmed it through the passage of the first trimester. As a result, we are suddenly all by ourselves and with a tiny fetus growing its limbs, nails, and hair inside our tummy - and the whole world simply doesn't have a clue!

But why?

In college days or at Business school interviews, as students we were regularly asked what we aspired to become when we grow up. 

Nobody told us it was out of bounds.

Then, why should "what we want to become - working & mothers" wait for the ultrasound scans to flash a timer?

Isn't it rather counter-intuitive, and a sure road to unprepared aloneness?

Contrary to what Sheryl Sandberg says about holding tight to your seat at the table until you have to get up, I always felt it is utterly important to start conversations and have dialogues of sensitisation and awareness early.

As women, we got to keep mainstreaming our realities, talk openly about our apprehensions and sign-post our aspirations so we can build a bridge ahead of the time we need to cross the river.

I have come to believe that the first step in that process begins with overcoming our reluctance and stigma to talk about it.

At the early stages.

At the younger ages.

Even as students, or maybe as early professionals.

If you are a young girl reading this, I am writing this for you.

Do your homework.

Like you try and find out about career options and drafting SOPs, do that for your life ahead.

Know your body, mind and resources.

Know that when the time comes, some calculations work while others go straight out of the window. 

In career, and in life.

And they're not so different after all.

So, be ready with contingency measures. Because all of it is real: Sleepiness, foggy brains and puking. Infertility treatments, miscarriage, premature births, special children, postpartum depression.

Respect your body.

Learn about your needs.

Before, during and after.

Seek stories of those who came before you.

Read, understand, and grow.

And own up to your story - no, it is not unprofessional to reveal your situation or to stand up to your needs. We only have to know how to.

That way, you get to build the bridge or find the bridge before your time comes to cross it.

More?

We can build that bridge together.

And know, we are not the only ones.

PS: The man in your life will have a huge role to play in all of these. Choose well.