Balancing Motherhood and Academia: My Personal Journey

My journey in academia and motherhood started ten years ago, with the birth of my first son while I was finishing my PhD. From the very start, these two worlds were intertwined — not in a tidy, balanced way, but in a messy, real-life way.

I remember working long hours in my university office, my baby boy nearby in a travel crib. Later, when my second son arrived, he would spend time with my husband or the department secretary while I was lecturing. And when our youngest, a beautiful baby girl, joined the family, she too grew up among the papers, books, and laptops that made up our academic life.

Motherhood was always my priority. I was never someone chasing an extraordinary publication record or dreaming of becoming a top scientist. But I also carried a strong sense of responsibility toward my work, and finding ways to hold both — family and academic life — was never easy.

The Busy Years

Our life in Mexico, on the surface, looked good. We were happy. We had a nice home we bought ourselves. The kids went to school and their activities; we went to work. But it was always busy, always rushed. Mornings were a scramble; afternoons filled with shuttling kids to sports or clubs; evenings packed with grading, planning, or unfinished tasks. I often felt the weight of that constant rush.

For a while, I balanced part-time work at two universities — a setup that came with long travel hours. As soon as I could, I took a full-time position at the University of Mexico, which brought more stability but also locked us further into that relentless pace.

Even though we were happy, there was always an ache underneath: we were so far away from both our families. I often thought about how important it would be, for the kids and for us, to live closer to family — and how, deep down, I longed to return to the Netherlands, where I had once studied and where part of my heart still lived.

The Pandemic Shift

Then came COVID.

Like for many, the pandemic was an intense and uncertain period. Suddenly, I was working full-time from home with three children around me, all needing help, attention, structure, and reassurance. In Mexico, unlike in the Netherlands, schools stayed online for more than a year. I worried constantly: Was this good for the kids? Should we try to move? Should we wait it out?

At the time, quitting our jobs and leaving felt impossible. But in hindsight, with everything I know now, I sometimes wonder if we should have made different decisions then.

The Leap

Almost two years ago, my husband and I did something many would call reckless: we both quit our faculty jobs at the same time.

Sometimes I wondered myself: were we being foolish?

It’s true, we were lucky to have those positions. But luck doesn’t always mean fulfillment.

The environment at our institution had shifted; some issues arose that, while not directly affecting us, cast a shadow over our work. And when my husband was offered a better position closer to his family and to an international airport (a critical perk when you have kids and family spread across the globe), we saw it as an opportunity.

So we leapt.

A Move for the Kids — and for Ourselves

While my husband settled into his new job, I took our children to the Netherlands for six months to live with my parents. The boys attended the same school I once did — one even had my old teacher! They bonded with their grandparents, improved their Dutch, and experienced life in one of their home countries.

When we returned to Mexico, my husband had already found a community, a school, and a temporary home. The boys adjusted — but not as smoothly as we’d hoped. Even now, they tell me they prefer life in the Netherlands. They say they don’t have many friends here, and they’re not particularly fond of their school. And yet, on the surface, they’re doing well: they’ve joined sports clubs, they’re learning, they’re growing.

Still, it’s something that weighs on me all the time. I keep wondering if we made the right choice — if, perhaps, we should return to the Netherlands after all. That quiet, lingering question never fully leaves.

Rediscovering Myself

Being at home with the kids was deeply fulfilling, but it left me longing for a professional, intellectual, and creative outlet. I had visions of writing papers and diving into creative projects during nap times — but the reality of full-time motherhood rarely leaves much room for anything else.

I knew I needed something flexible, something I could shape around the chaos of family life. So I began experimenting: writing little reflections, taking online courses, scribbling down ideas that might one day grow into something more.

I slowly realized I carried valuable experiences, insights, and struggles worth reflecting on. Sharing those thoughts helped me process them — and occasionally, helped others too.

The Path I Didn’t Take

Somewhere along this journey, I stumbled upon what felt like my dream job: a lecturer position in animal behaviour at a university in the Netherlands. On paper, it was everything I’d ever wanted — until I asked about flexibility.

The response was crushing: it’s a full-time job. You have to live nearby. Don’t ask for accommodations — it makes a bad impression.

That was it. I didn’t apply. As much as I loved the idea, I couldn’t uproot my kids and compromise our family life. And besides — even though we often wonder if we should return to the Netherlands, we know we don’t want to go back in a way that would split our family or lock me into a full-time schedule that leaves little space for the kind of life we want to build together.

In hindsight, that experience lit a fire under me — not to chase the perfect job, but to reimagine what fulfillment means in this chapter of life.

Embracing Balance

Balancing motherhood and academia — or any demanding career — is tough. It’s not just about juggling tasks; it’s about navigating ongoing questions that don’t always have clear answers.

Part of me still worries: are the kids truly happy here? Would they thrive more if we went back to the Netherlands, where they felt more at home? I don’t know. But I’ve come to realize that moving forward doesn’t always mean solving every uncertainty — sometimes it means carrying those questions gently, while still choosing to take the next step.

I’m grateful for the challenges, the missteps, and the lessons. They’ve shaped who I am today — not just as a scientist or a mother, but as a human in the middle of an ongoing, evolving journey.

Our story isn’t finished. As a family, we are still exploring, still questioning, still shaping what “home,” “work,” and “balance” will look like for us. As a mother and a scientist, I am walking this same path — with an open heart, a clear sense of purpose, and the determination to create a life that truly fits.

If you’re on a similar journey, I would love to hear your story. Let’s share, reflect, and learn from one another — because even without all the answers, we can move forward with courage, hope, and the knowledge that we are not alone.