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What The Room is Missing

There's a chasm between rooms where empathetic leadership is present and rooms where it isn't — and the research is unambiguous about what that gap costs. But "women in the room" and "mothers in the room" are not the same thing. When maternal intelligence is absent from the rooms where decisions get made, the output reflects it.
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When Flexibility Becomes Compression

Flexibility gets promised before it's designed. For working mothers, that gap doesn't show up in a policy doc — it shows up at 10pm, when the work pushed out of a meeting-heavy day finally has somewhere to land. Here's what compression actually looks like, and what it would take to fix it.
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Flexible Workplaces… But what are we actually talking about?

Flexible work looks great on a careers page. It's also almost universally undefined — and that ambiguity isn't neutral. Before the conversation can move forward, there's a more basic question worth asking: what are we actually talking about?
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Emily Meekins

Emily • Fractional People/Talent Partner • Lancaster, PA • 1 Beautiful Boy
Still in my first year of motherhood—and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. My son Irving is the center of my world. Who knew I could love someone so deeply, or how much my world (and sense of self) would expand because of him?
 
It’s also really hard being a mom—and all of the other things I am: a partner, a business owner (x2, soon to be 3!), a friend, a daughter/sister/aunt, a homeowner, a community builder, the go-to shoulder to lean on for so many people in my life. I wouldn’t trade a single role, but whew—trying to be them all at once is demanding.
 
It feels like the pace of life has 10x’d. I’ve adjusted… but I’m also often out of breath (and occasionally in tears). And yet—this is the happiest, most fulfilled I’ve ever been. I’m also on the verge of tears writing this. (Thanks, postpartum hormones!) I think this might just be who I am now, lol.
🙂🤪🥲
I thought I was ready.
 
My son started daycare at 4 months; I returned to work a week later with a full plate of client work. Somehow, I completely missed the memo on daycare germs. Our house was rocked for three straight months—constantly sick, constantly trying to care for a sick baby while also being sick, while also holding up client commitments.
 
It all came to a head with an overnight hospital stay. Sitting next to his hospital crib—exhausted, terrified—and suddenly everything came into focus. What my home needed. The space I hadn’t made in my work. The community I was missing. I pulled out my phone and sent Caloua a chaotic brain dump—a seed of what would eventually become MAMA. Something I needed. Something I knew others needed too.
 
I genuinely believed nothing would change. That daycare would start, I’d go back to work, and life would resume as normal. But nothing about me—or my life—will ever return to “normal.” The biggest thing I’ve learned? My margin of error had to expand. Dramatically. Because there are things I can’t plan for that will keep showing up—and if I don’t build space for them, they’ll bulldoze me every time.
From 9 to 5, it feels like we’re all in hiding. Imagine having to tuck away this huge, all-consuming, life-altering part of who you are—for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Sometimes there’s a bit of small talk at the top of a meeting—but it’s clear we’re expected to quickly tuck it away. Shift gears, get focused, and get back to being a productive professional. Like I didn’t just spend my morning covered in poop. Honestly? It’s weird. I didn’t realize how strange or disorienting it would feel until I became a mother.
I feel most seen—as a mother and a professional—when I’m talking to other working moms.
 
There’s an unspoken understanding that transcends anything I could try to explain: the balancing act, the relentless pace, the invisibility, the constant demands, the never-ending to-do list, the meltdowns (ours and theirs), the expectations, the guilt.
 
Those moments of being truly understood—whether it’s a passing comment, a voice memo, or the rare and sacred dinner date—they mean everything.
Support, right now, means having people I can call on who truly get it. People who understand me—and this phase of life I’m in—in a deep, almost spiritual kind of way.
Launching MAMA is a dream and I’m so proud to finally be sharing this with others.
live in the delusion that I’m just one month away from things normalizing. (If I keep telling myself this, it’ll eventually happen… right? 🤪)
MAMA! I’m also growing the recruitment side of workstrat (need help hiring? hi!! 👋🏻). And at home, we’re working on getting Irving to sleep in his crib through the night. Not cool yet, but it’s going to catch on (haaaalp!!).