The Currency of a Working Mother

The other night, after the house was finally quiet and my laptop was closed for the third time that day, I found myself watching an old episode of Brothers and Sisters. There’s a scene where Sarah Walker says, “Being a working mom is like a currency that never has enough value.”

That line stopped me. Because I felt it in my bones.

I am a full-time cybersecurity advisor. My days are filled with risk assessments, compliance frameworks, incident response plans, executive briefings, and the constant hum of “what if.” My job is to anticipate threats before they happen. To protect. To plan. To think three steps ahead.

And then I close my laptop and walk into another world entirely.

I’m also homeschooling three boys. Three loud, funny, brilliant, high-energy boys. My oldest has ADHD and ODD — which means our days are often a delicate dance between structure and flexibility, consequences and compassion, boundaries and grace. It means big emotions. Power struggles. Breakthroughs that feel like miracles. Exhaustion that settles deep in my bones.

It means constantly asking myself: Am I doing this right?

When I am excelling at work — leading meetings confidently, solving complex security challenges, delivering polished presentations — I feel competent. Respected. Capable. But I also feel drained. My brain feels wrung out. My patience is thinner. My emotional regulation is fragile. And when my child spirals into frustration over math or explodes over a transition, I don’t always respond with the calm, steady presence I want to embody.

On those days, I lie in bed replaying moments I wish I could redo.

And when I decide to pour more of myself into motherhood — slowing down lessons, researching new strategies for ADHD, sitting longer in the hard conversations, choosing connection over productivity — something else gives.

Emails stack up. Deadlines press closer. My work feels rushed. I worry I’m not sharp enough, not focused enough, not delivering the level of excellence my role demands.

So where is the balance?

The truth no one likes to say out loud is this: something is always bending. And more often than not, it’s me.

Women are told we can have it all. Career. Motherhood. Marriage. Fulfillment. Purpose. But no one talks about the invisible cost. No one talks about the emotional labor of holding every moving part together. Of being the contingency plan at work and the emotional thermostat at home. Of being the one who adjusts her schedule, her sleep, her expectations, her body, her mind.

Who is the one who bends when life presses in?

It’s the wife. It’s the mother.

It’s the woman who stays up late finishing reports after bedtime battles. The one who Googles “how to parent a child with ODD without losing your mind” between client calls. The one who feels guilty for loving her work and guilty for needing a break from her children. The one who is never fully at rest because wherever she is, a piece of her feels like it should be somewhere else.

Being a working mom can feel like a currency that never has enough value. No matter how much you give, it doesn’t seem to cover the cost. If you invest heavily in your career, you feel bankrupt at home. If you invest deeply at home, you feel behind at work.

And layered on top of it all is that quiet, persistent whisper: You’re not good enough.

Not patient enough.

Not present enough .

Not productive enough.

Not organized enough.

Not soft enough.

Not strong enough.

Just… not enough.

But here’s what I’m slowly learning, in the middle of the tension: the bending doesn’t mean I’m breaking. The exhaustion doesn’t mean I’m failing. The guilt doesn’t mean I’m doing it wrong.

It means I care deeply about both callings.

I care about protecting businesses from cyber threats. I care about raising resilient, capable boys — especially one who experiences the world in a way that demands more creativity, more advocacy, more persistence from me. I care about showing my sons what it looks like for a woman to lead, to think critically, to build, to solve problems.

And yes, sometimes that means I am stretched thin. Sometimes it means dinner is simple. Sometimes it means my inbox is chaotic. Sometimes it means I apologize after losing patience. Sometimes it means redefining “having it all” into something more honest: choosing what matters most in this season, even if it’s messy.

Maybe having it all was never about doing it all perfectly.

Maybe it’s about embracing the tension. Owning the complexity. Accepting that excellence in one area may look like grace in another. And understanding that the value of a working mother cannot be measured by productivity metrics or perfectly regulated afternoons.

It’s measured in resilience. In showing up again tomorrow. In loving fiercely, even when you’re tired. In trying again, even when you feel like you fell short.

The currency may never feel like enough.

But the woman carrying it? She is.