I have always felt uncomfortable with the phrase 'a human being before being a mother'

The struggles of a career woman

My best friend is a mother of three and a career woman.
She juggles large-scale projects and says that even during long weekends, she would work after putting her children to sleep at her in-laws' house.
She is intelligent, brighter and more energetic than anyone else, but that day, her voice over the phone sounded somehow dejected.

“My mother-in-law hates me.”
When I asked, she told me that her usually gentle mother-in-law had said harsh words to her, such as, “The reason you can work freely is not because of your ability, but because of those around you. Don't get ahead of yourself.”
“I am doing everything I can for my family.
Once you become a mother, do you no longer have the right to pursue work or academics?”
She was crying.
In the background, I could faintly hear the voice of her youngest child starting to fuss.

After listening to her vent, I thought vaguely in the silence of midnight.
What about me, I wondered.

A past where I couldn't continue working

I remembered when my eldest son was one year old.
Every time I got a call from daycare, I had to bow my head to my boss and suffer from the guilt of inconveniencing my colleagues. I used babysitters and sick-child care services to the fullest to hang on.
But eventually, I was indirectly encouraged to resign, being told, “Focusing on childcare is an experience you can only have now.” It was humiliating.

I was breastfeeding and commuting while barely getting enough sleep or food, and before I knew it, I had lost 10 kilograms. Thinking back now, perhaps I caused more worry than inconvenience.
One day, in front of the meeting room, when the words “XX Daycare” appeared on the screen of the smartphone I took out of my pocket, my hands shook, I couldn't breathe, and tears spilled out.
I can't keep going anymore.
I, who believed I was the career woman type, could not accept what was happening to me.

Do I no longer have the strength to be active as a working professional?
What on earth does it mean to enjoy childcare?
I sat next to my son and tried kneading clay with him. It wasn't fun.
Am I incompetent, unable to be either a professional or a mother—?

My friend's words on the other end of the phone brought back those feelings from that time.

“Wanting to work” did not mean “wanting to escape the role of a mother”

Eight years have passed since I gave up my full-time job and started working loosely in non-regular employment.
I sincerely respect and admire the efforts and success of my friend who is building her career. However, I am no longer in pain, and I don't feel jealous.
For better or worse, I haven't found a job I'm passionate enough about to leave my children with someone else. That, too, is not bad at all.

I wonder what kind of words or help I wanted back then.

“You don't need to feel guilty about being away from your children”
“A human being before being a mother”
“A mother's happiness is a child's happiness”

Such words of encouragement were appreciated, and there were times when they saved me.
However, I had always felt a sense of discomfort that I couldn't quite put into words.

A discomfort like the feeling that the desire to “work” and the desire to “be a mother” were on opposite shores, with a large, muddy river flowing between them.
An unease like having to pack my loneliness into my commuting bag every day and cross a small, unreliable bridge back and forth.
A “lack of understanding,” as if the scenery on the other shore was far away, foggy, and only vaguely visible.
I feel like I was wishing I could live in a place where “mother” and “a human being who wants to work” overlapped more ambiguously.

For example, I suddenly think of a world like old-fashioned shops or farms, where adult work and children's lives are not completely separated.
I think about a life that is continuous, without the binary choice of “family or self-realization.”

In modern Tokyo, it seems that wisdom and ingenuity are necessary to obtain the “freedom to live as oneself while valuing being a mother.”

My sons are my companions in life

When I started working from home, my children's lives, my life, and my work began to physically overlap.
I hang out laundry between meetings, and my eldest son does his homework next to me while I prepare documents.
The struggle of crossing the “muddy river” is gone, and the mental burden of carrying loneliness and guilt in my bag has almost disappeared.
Before I knew it, I had become able to enjoy kneading clay with my children. I have come to feel joy in being able to see their eyes shine with curiosity every day.

The scale of my work is far from the “social success” I dreamed of when I was a full-time employee.
But I do have a small, real sense of being connected to society.
And that is closer to the “texture of daily life” and “relationships with people.”
The “enjoyment of children” and “my own self-realization,” which were once separated, are beginning to coexist loosely.

I think what I am looking for is a path that makes the very life of being with my children richer and lighter.
Traveling together. Encountering the world. Cultivating a life.
Working without strain, and learning together.
It also seems interesting to come up with business ideas together.

How shall I live from now on with these children?
My sons are the companions of my life.