Get the monthly newsletter made for ambitious moms.

What The Room is Missing

Table of Contents

There’s a study that keeps coming up in conversations about workplace performance. Researchers found that when empathetic leadership was present, 61% of employees reported being able to innovate, vs 13% when it wasn’t (Catalyst).

Not a rounding error, a chasm. And yet the most reliable training ground for exactly this kind of leadership, the one that produces triage thinking, pattern recognition under pressure, and an almost eerie ability to read a room, gets treated like a liability the moment someone walks through the door with it.

We’re talking about motherhood. Stay with us.

There’s a version of this conversation that’s been had before, usually in the form of a LinkedIn post about multitasking or a panel about “working mom superpowers.” That’s not this. This is about the rooms where decisions get made: what gets generated in them, what gets missed, and who is (or isn’t) sitting at the table.

The research on diverse teams is blunt.

Diverse groups produce better decisions and increased creativity because a mix of backgrounds, perspectives, and worldviews generates more innovative thinking and higher-quality solutions.
(Springer)

McKinsey has been saying it for years. Companies in the top quartile for gender diversity on executive teams were 25% more likely to have above-average profitability. The data isn’t soft. The data is a business case with a very uncomfortable implication sitting inside it: if the room keeps looking the same, the output will too.

But we want to push past gender diversity as a category and get specific. Because “women in the room” and “mothers in the room” are not the same thing. Motherhood is a particular kind of formation. It produces a specific and compounded set of skills — in crisis management, emotional attunement, decision-making under pressure, and leading through uncertainty — that translate directly into how we work, how we manage teams, and how we show up for the people around us.

The Skill Set Nobody Names

Working mothers report more efficient time management and problem-solving techniques, increased confidence, and greater courage to pursue leadership roles after having children (Romper).

Separately, research on the career impacts of motherhood found that women felt greater motivation and reported an increase in cognitive knowledge as a result of coping with motherhood’s demands.
(PubMed Central)

These aren’t soft skills. They’re compounded, pressure-tested capabilities, built in the margins of a life that doesn’t have margins.

Here’s what that looks like in practice. 

What Triage Actually Looks Like

You’re up at 2am trying to determine whether this is a “wait and see” or a “go to the ER” situation. There’s no rubric. You’re reading symptoms, reading your kid, reading your own fear, and making a call. You do this on no sleep, with no room for error, with another full day of work starting in four hours. Then you walk into a meeting and read that room in thirty seconds flat — who’s actually aligned, who’s performing alignment, where the resistance lives, what needs to be named. Nobody calls it triage. But that’s what it is.

We carry this into every room we enter. We just don’t say where it came from.

Because here’s the other half of it: the tucking away is real. 

The Tucking Away

You learn fast which truths create risk and which ones don’t. Mentioning daycare pickup: probably fine. Mentioning that you were up all night with a sick kid and are running on two hours of sleep and still prepared the deck: absolutely not. You manage the exposure, not the capability. The capability is present and doing work. The context disappears.

Non-parents who had parent bosses believed those bosses were better at multitasking, more empathetic to others’ personal lives, more respectful of time, and more likely to make time for genuine connection (Romper). The people around us can feel the difference. They just don’t know what they’re feeling.

So what does the room lose when we’re not in it? Or when we’re in it but invisible?

What The Room Loses

It loses the person who already knows how to hold complexity without freezing. Who has practiced, at a cellular level, making good decisions with incomplete information. Who understands that what someone says and what someone needs are often two different things — and built that understanding not in a leadership training but in the relentless, unglamorous, ordinary work of keeping another person alive and loved.

And the cost isn’t just human. When that perspective is absent, organizations make slower decisions, miss obvious risks, and build products for audiences they don’t understand. The research on cognitively diverse teams is clear: groups that include people with different problem-solving approaches outperform homogeneous ones (not occasionally, consistently). Maternal intelligence is a form of cognitive diversity. Leaving it out of the room isn’t just a values failure, it’s a performance failure too.


The Quality Argument

We both came to this industry through different doors, but we keep arriving in the same rooms and noticing who isn’t in them. The meeting where nobody flags the policy that will quietly push out the returning parent. The campaign that doesn’t land because nobody in the room understood the audience. The decision that looked clean on paper and unraveled in the field.

This isn’t a diversity argument, though the data supports it. It’s a quality argument. The rooms that are making decisions about products, people, and culture are producing worse outcomes when certain perspectives are absent — and maternal intelligence is one of them.

One thing worth naming: this isn’t an argument for making motherhood a professional identity or expecting mothers to represent their experience at work. Most of us aren’t asking for that, and some actively don’t want it. The skills exist whether or not the context is ever named. The point isn’t that working mothers should have to lead with what they’ve been through. The point is that organizations are benefiting from capabilities they don’t see, don’t value, and too often push out — and that has a cost that shows up in the work.


Start with the room you’re in right now

These questions are for anyone with a seat at a decision-making table — in hiring, in leadership, in culture-setting, in the room where the call gets made.

We’re not talking about an abstract room. Think about the meeting you just left, the leadership team you’re on, the hiring committee you’re part of, and the decisions being made this week…

Ask yourself:

  • Who isn’t in this room and why?
  • What decisions are we making that will affect people whose experience isn’t represented here?
  • If a working mother walked into this room today, what would she immediately notice that we’ve stopped seeing?

You don’t have to have all the answers. But the rooms that ask better questions make better decisions. And right now, most rooms aren’t asking these questions at all.

More Insights

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.

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?

Join the No Apologies, Mama Newsletter

Get the monthly newsletter made for ambitious moms and those who support them.

Receive 1-2 emails per month.

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!!).