When I found out about my pregnancy just over four years ago, my excitement was quickly overshadowed by fear and panic, not about parenthood and its struggles alone, but about what this meant for my career. I was one of the few lucky ones; I had been working for an organisation run by a high-ranking female government official who made both my pregnancy and the first few months of my son’s life much easier to handle. She made it clear that mothers within the organisation were to be supported and given as much flexibility as possible, even when she probably could not afford the same privileges she generously offered us because of her demanding and important role. I wrote this piece away from facts and figures about the benefits of breastfeeding, why women are vital to the economy or the dangers of leaving your child unsupervised with a maid or nanny. Instead, I wanted for this to be a personal account of my struggles as a working mother that eventually led to me quitting a job I was very invested in for many years.
Despite the wonderful treatment I was offered in my previous job, motherhood did not come without its challenges. Motherhood is not only emotionally and physically draining, but also quite difficult to manage logistically when one also has a full-time job. My role required regular travelling to developing countries, which was something I could only put off for so long. When my son was seven months old, I had to resume travelling, and though I crammed as many meetings as possible every day on the field (once for up to 12 hours), to avoid spending more days away from my son, it was still difficult. My usual work days in the office (even with the allocated breastfeeding hours) were still too long for me to be able to keep nursing my child. On many occasions, I would have someone drive my son to work for a feed because the supply of natural milk had run out and he refused to drink formula. While it is customary for Emirati working mothers to leave their children with family members during work hours, that was not a viable option for me. Though my mother did a wonderful job with my son during the first few months and when I was away on work trips, she had a life of her own that she could not put on hold for long stretches of time to be with my son. My in-laws lived in another emirate altogether and driving my son to them back and forth everyday was not feasible. At just five-and-a-half months old, I had to enrol my son in the nursery that luckily had just opened in our office building. It seemed like the perfect arrangement; I could continue nursing him as I had always intended and get to spend some time with him during the day when I had time to spare. Soon, however, he started catching viruses here and there and I had to take time off often to take care of him. Asking for days off and declining work-related trips to be with him was becoming a source of embarrassment, guilt and agony. I would stay up nights worrying about my slowing pace at work and my son who needed me more than I had thought he would.
After a year-and-a-half, it got overwhelming, even with all the support and facilities I had. The sleepless nights were catching up with me and I found it increasingly difficult to focus at work, the guilt for having to expose my son to infections at the day-care centre, so I can continue working, was getting to me. I had no proper support system I could count on when a work trip was due. My stomach would churn at the mention of travel, I would panic every time my son showed signs of a cold, thinking it would definitely turn into another dreaded ear infection and I would secretly break down into tears every time I miscalculated something or forgot to follow through a task. In the end, and with a heavy heart, I had to resign from a post I had loved so much, in an organisation that did everything in its power to make it easier for me to manage being a parent with having a job.
I can’t help but think of all the working mothers in the country who unfortunately have it much worse than I did. Those whose employers refuse to approve their annual leaves combined with their maternity leave of 60 calendar days (forget asking for an extended unpaid leave), those who resort to pumping in office bathrooms for lack of proper designated facilities or can’t even consider breastfeeding their children, and those who have to leave their children with maids due to the absence of day-care centres in work places.
Leaving my job after having served the organisation for seven years was the most difficult decision I have ever had to make. It was during that time that I truly realised how admirable the many working mothers living in this country and around the world are, and how little their employers and colleagues know about their daily struggles. When I read the news about the committee that was formed to review the maternity law in the UAE, I breathed a sigh of relief and thought of all the little things that add up to make life for a working mother overwhelming and almost unbearable — and how much of a difference changing them would make. The UAE prides itself with its strong and intelligent female workforce and we need to look at all the ways we can make having both a family and a thriving career an attractive life-choice for all women. The working women of the UAE have proven time and again how instrumental they are to the country’s ongoing growth and progress and how committed they are to their families. It is high time we showed our commitment to those unsung heroes.
Maria Hanif is an Emirati writer from Dubai. You can follow her on Twitter at www.Twitter.com/maria_hanif
