The Thin Line Between Drive and Destruction

Motherhood and Leadership in the Nonprofit Sector

5 months ago this morning, I brought my miracle baby into the world. She came on her own time, exactly one day before my scheduled induction. On the ball, headfirst, ambitious from day one; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.?

The first few months of her life were a blur as they are for all new parents, but instead of things getting better as everyone seemed to promise, with every passing day the fog around me thickened. The pain started when she was three weeks old, a searing pain in my lower right back that shot down my leg and inflamed my knee, ankle, and foot.?

By the time she was three months old, I was in agonizing pain every night and just surviving through the days. I could barely stand, sit, or walk. It hurt to breathe. Coughing or sneezing sent me sprawling on the floor. On multiple occasions when I was in complete spasm, my partner begged me to go to the emergency room, to get prescription pain medication, to find out what was going on. I refused. I always had an excuse: I could deal with this on my own, it was probably just stress. I read John Sarno’s “Healing Back Pain,” twice. I told myself it had to be in my head. I meditated. I wrote. I went to two different chiropractors.?

I had to keep going, to keep doing, to keep moving. I had to keep breastfeeding; I had to keep the house clean; I had to support my parents; I had to be there for my partner and teenage stepson. I had to go back to work and lead my organization.?

12 weeks after my daughter was born, I returned to full time work. Everyone around me had an opinion about how I should feel going back. Though I absorbed some of their anxiety, overall I felt incredibly excited to be in the mix again with my team. I had worked in overdrive setting things up for my maternity leave, and I was so proud to see how the team thrived in my absence. Coming back, I saw so many opportunities to elevate my work and create new space in the organization. I dove in head first, masking my physical pain with intellectual distraction. Popping prednisone anti-inflammatory steroids and 800 mg of ibuprofen every 5-6 hours to keep going at all costs.

The pain worsened. I was scared I would lose my leg. I wanted to die every night. I didn’t know what to do. There was no room for me to be broken.?

My inability to accept my situation ultimately led to pain so severe that I ended up in the emergency room on intravenous morphine. I couldn’t stand or sit, let alone walk. I couldn’t go anywhere or see anyone. I couldn’t cook. I couldn’t work. I had to stop breastfeeding because of the narcotics. I couldn't hold my daughter. I cried more that week than I’ve ever cried in my life. I was failing my partner, my family, my daughter, my team. I was failing myself, and I’d made it worse by trying so hard to pretend I was ok.?

Asking for help is one of the hardest things in the world for me, and I had to hit my rock bottom to get there. I finally saw a spine specialist and X-Rays and an MRI result came back with clear pathology for the pain. I have a severely bulged disc between my L4 & L5 vertebrae that is putting pressure on my sciatic nerve and causing constant muscle spasms, inflammation, and shooting pain down my leg. I have an uterine abnormality, and I carried my daughter entirely on my right side, which caused my pelvis to shift back and down to the right, pushing on my lumbar and twisting my spine severely to the right. The structural shift happened gradually over the course of the pregnancy, and when the weight was suddenly removed, my body did not know how to correct it.?

I broke down when I found out there was actually something physically wrong, a combination of relief that it wasn’t in my head and anger at myself for not seeking help sooner. I’ve been flat out for over two weeks now. I’ve had to ask for accommodations at work. I’ve had to lean on my partner for literally everything. I’ve had to set boundaries with my family. And I’ve had to reach out to ask for help from my friends.?

Yesterday, 5 months after my daughter’s birth, I received an epidural injection that I hope is a step on the path to recovery. Chronic pain does something to your brain, and I know that the fear and trauma of the past months will not just disappear – but I feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. This experience has been a firm reminder that no matter how strong or capable or determined or positive I am, I cannot do life or work or motherhood on my own. The rawness of being at your most vulnerable creates space for the most genuine love, and I am more grateful for the support I’ve received through this time and more in love with my work, my family, my friends, and my life than ever before.

I am a private person, but at Global Glimpse we teach our students to be vulnerable because being human and raw and true leads to so much good in the world. As a female leader in a sector that is chronically overworked and under-supported, it is important for me to share my experiences, the mistakes I make, and the lessons I learn. I know that my ambition, drive, work ethic, and can-do attitude has gotten me where I am today professionally, and it is also what made me think I could get through this as I’ve gotten through so many other challenges in my life: by putting my head down and pushing. I am proud of these qualities, but I also understand that they can be toxic and the line between the two is blurry at best.

The pressures I feel to perform at this level are pressures of privilege that to others are literally life and death. I’m an educated white woman in an executive position, and I face little risk to my reputation, work, or life in sharing my story. BIPOC women in my position fear that they won’t be believed, that they will be judged, that they’ll lose their jobs, and far worse. This is a critical conversation, and it is important for me to not only use my privilege to share my story but also leverage my learnings to lead with empathy and put people first in the organization that I lead. I believe it is possible to build organizations in the social sector that are both ambitious and people centered, and as I learn I am determined to use my position to support, empower, and advocate for those who do not have the resources, power, or privilege that I have. People are everything in this work. Without health and wellbeing, we cannot serve.?

At Global Glimpse we have been listening and working to develop a culture and policies that support our people to thrive at every stage in their lives and in their work. Parenting and the transition to become a parent looks different for everyone, and I believe that creating a culture that supports vulnerability and creates space for individual learning and flexibility is as important as instituting comprehensive leave policies. If our goal is to change society then we must be open to change ourselves. In the coming weeks and months, I will share our learning and the changes we have made and will continue to make as we work to build a more sustainable, impactful organization.