I Lost My Job After Becoming a Mom Because They ‘Need Someone Who Won’t Get Distracted’

They said that I was too distracted to continue with my job only months after maternity leave. My next move brought millions of people to the discussion.

I would wake up at 5.30 am. My son would be already crying red-faced and wriggling in his crib like a little fire alarm.

I would pick him up, carry him on my hip, and using my other hand, I would open my laptop. I received emails, Slack pings, and a calendar reminder for a 7:00 a.m. check-in. By the time I would remember that I had coffee in my mug, it was always cold.

This was my life: spreadsheets in the morning, lullabies at night. I was not flourishing, but I was living. And in those early days, that was enough.

Only my baby and I were present in a house that was always noisy. I carried him in a wrap as I typed in weekly reports. I would swap nappies during Zoom meetings and mute meetings to shush him back to sleep.

One day, a colleague asked me, “Is that a baby crying?”

I smiled and did not even blink. It is likely to be my ringtone.

Some people laughed, but after that, I turned my mic off more than normal.

I was the one they all had to lean on before I became a mom. I had worked at the company for five years, and I had begun in the administrative department and worked my way up to project lead. I did night

courses, got a digital marketing certificate, and assisted in training the final group of new employees. I spent two nights in a row repairing the home page when the 2020 rebrand almost broke the site. No complaints.

My manager Rob once told me that if there were five people like me, this place would run itself.

Another time, during a performance review, he complimented me on my steadiness. You’re smart. You are not a complainer. You are an employee of my dreams, honestly.”

I recall smiling and saying, Thanks, Rob. I am fond of it here.”

And I did. I enjoyed my job, the organisation, and the group. I took pleasure in learning about my role.

Then I was a mother. And things were different.

I was ready when I returned to work after maternity leave. Despite my fatigue, I was fully prepared. I said to Rob at our check-in, I am back on. I’m used to late logouts and early logins. I’m here.”

He gave me a thumbs up and told me, I love the attitude. It is just a matter of keeping the momentum.”

I tried. Even when you only get two hours of sleep, it can still be challenging. Even when my baby was fussy and I couldn’t finish a sentence without some background noise, I persevered.

I would have my camera on and a steady smile. However, people began to treat me differently.

One morning, Sarah from accounting said to me, “You look tired.” She spoke softly, yet her eyes were saying something different.

It was just baby stuff, I said.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Mmm. I hope it does not impact any of your deadlines.”

The following week Rob told us in our team meeting, “We are requesting flexibility this quarter.” There might be some late nights. Maybe weekends.”

I wrote in the chat that I am flexible, but I would need a bit of advance notice. I have to take care of a child.”

Nobody answered.

On Friday afternoon a meeting appeared. 6:30 p.m.

I sent a message to Rob. Is it possible to do it earlier? I need to go collect my son from daycare.

His answer was, We will talk later.

Nevertheless, he never did.

Next, my pay cheque was late. My pay cheque arrived three days overdue. I sent an email to the payroll. No answer. That is why I asked Rob during our one-on-one. He reclined on his chair and said, It is not as though you are the breadwinner anymore, right?

I froze. Well, I am. I’m divorced.”

He laughed embarrassedly. “Oh. Right. Didn’t think you were still with that guy.”

I made no reply. I had to have that check. I could not afford to rock the boat.

I reassured him by saying, “It is all right.” I simply wanted to make sure.”

He shrugged a hand as though it were nothing. I am sure it will come through.

Yet there was something in the tone of his voice which made me And that feeling—it’d stayed with me longer than I thought.

The second meeting took place at 3.00 p.m. Only me and Rob and an HR person I had never seen..

The name tag read Cynthia, and she never smiled. It was a chilly room. The blinds were drawn halfway, and the fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The chair which they provided me was wobbly, yet I sat erect.

Rob began to speak as though we were simply checking in. “Thanks for taking the time,” he said.

I nodded. “Of course.”

He leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table, as if he were about to give a compliment. He started, “We have enjoyed your services to the company, but we require someone who does not have… distractions.”

I blinked. “Distractions?”

He hesitated, as if he wanted the word to be spoken softly, but it was not. One who is available all the way. Someone who is willing to work late at night or on weekends is what we are looking for. A person we do not need to call in and ask permission before we plan things.”

Cynthia remained quiet, observing me as though she was waiting to see me cry or scream. I did not. I simply heard.

You mean my child is the distraction, I said in a flat voice.

Rob looked at Cynthia and then at me. Rob didn’t say it with such precision.

You are, I said. You mean it is a problem to be a mother.

He made no answer. There was a long silence.

I rose and straightened my blouse, although my hands were trembling. I said, Thanks for your honesty, and walked out. No shouting. No tears. All I heard was a quiet exit.

I was burning inwardly. They did not fire me because I was unable to do the job. They dumped me since I could not bow any more. I demanded notice, equitable work hours, and a timely pay cheque. I had turned into a person they could not control, a mother who put up boundaries.

I sat on the couch that night still in my work clothes after I had put my son to bed. The baby monitor was blinking to my side. I switched on my laptop and activated the camera. The living room was dark, but that was expected.

I said, in the lens, Hi. Today I was fired. Not that I was not good at my job. However, since I am a mom. Since I could not stay back without notice. Due to the fact that I questioned why my pay cheque was three days late.”

I stopped and stared at the camera. People referred to me as a diversion.

I breathed. Therefore, I will do something about it.

I then clicked post.

Nothing occurred at first. Some likes. Two shares. However, by midnight, the video had gone viral – more than 3,000 shares and counting. It had 2 million views by the morning. Messages came flooding in from women I did not know.

The same occurred with me.

I shed tears upon watching this.

Thank you for saying what we all think.

One of the comments was, “I am in, should you ever start something.”

And that was all. That was when. In less than a week I had a waitlist of moms who were coders, designers, marketers, and virtual assistants. All talented. All are tired. All ready.

I registered a domain and did some paperwork. I called it The Naptime Agency.

We were sitting at kitchen tables and living room floors. We worked in the afternoon and after bedtime. We had Zoom meetings with infants in our laps and toddlers running around our feet. We would send drafts in the middle of the night, meet deadlines with one hand, and wipe spit-up with the other.

Our Detroit copywriter Amanda had a newborn that she worked with in a sling. Maya, an Austin designer, would work late, and her twins would sleep next to her computer. We did not apologise for our lives. We based our business model on our experiences.

After three months, I received an email from one of the largest clients of my previous company. They wrote, We have seen your video. We prefer to do business with individuals who know what life is all about.

Two additional customers came.

At quarter-end we had six contracts, a dozen women on the payroll, and others waiting to come on. It was not only about creating websites. We were creating the ideal work environment we needed most.

A year has passed since the meeting in which they referred to my son as a distraction.

Now he is two years old. He sleeps soundly, eats with determination, and insists on selecting his own socks. Nowadays we laugh a tremendous deal. We still have busy mornings, but they are no longer panic-filled.

The Naptime Agency has expanded to 30 people since the days of a single mom and a laptop. Designers. Writers. Developers. Project managers.

All mothers. All brilliant. We have created websites for startups, and branding campaigns for nonprofits and small businesses have increased their online presence by three times. Each victory is a mini revolution.

Occasionally that old video reappears. I do not cringe when I see it. I smile. It brings me back to the beginning of this all, one damning truth and one even harder decision.

They claimed that I was a distraction. But now, look at what we have become: 30 strong individuals, 30 brilliant minds, and not a single one of us owes an apology. What they considered a weakness was our strength. I did not break because of losing that job. It made me free.