In 2013, I decided to step back from my career to raise my kids — who were 4 years old and 18 months. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made: full of love, full of fear, and full of unknowns.
I left a phenomenal company and an amazing boss. I thought I’d be home for a couple of years until things settled. But two years turned into ten.
Yes, I know what that looks like in an interview. For those following the conversation about how hard it is for moms to “do it all,” you might expect this to be a story about burnout or sacrifice.
It’s not.
Eventually, I started dreaming again — not just about going back to work, but about returning to the kind of work I love: helping clients navigate organizational change.
What I Did During Those “Off” Years
Raising children is a full-time job. That first summer, the kids and I lived in a rhythm of playgrounds, pools, and nap schedules. They were happy, I was tan, and we were all very, very tired.
But as time went on, life got more complicated.
My son struggled in school. Between kindergarten and third grade, he received four developmental and learning diagnoses. That meant weekly therapy sessions, endless calls with insurance, and constant advocacy for his education.
I’ll never forget pulling over after the dyslexia diagnosis and calling my mom:
“Now I get why I’m home. This is all so scary and too much. How does anyone do this while working?”
I love being a mom. But I also needed to use my brain, contribute to my community, and work with other adults. So, I found new ways to lead without a title or paycheck:
- At my daughter’s school, I chaired the Annual Fund, partnered with development leaders, and later joined the board — where I now serve as president.
- I became the founding president of a local nonprofit board and learned governance from the ground up.
- I joined a global education nonprofit board, encouraged their first in-person board meeting, and led the development of their inaugural strategic plan. Today, I serve as its president.
I never stopped learning or leading. I wrote bylaws, facilitated alignment among stakeholders, championed mission clarity, and led teams of volunteers.
Returning to Consulting
By the time I was ready to return, I had already spent years imagining what it could look like — for me, and for my family.
I knew I wanted to return to strategy, organization, and governance work. I wanted to help nonprofit leaders and boards navigate change and align around what matters. But this time, on my own terms.
So I built my business intentionally:
What kind of work fuels me?
Who do I best support?
What values guide the way I serve?
I looked at my story. While my formal consulting background was in the federal space, my last decade had been immersed in nonprofits and education. I had real-world, lived experience with governance, board dynamics, executive leadership, and guiding organizations through complexity.
I started building my business by reaching out to people I trusted. I shared what I was excited about. I asked, “Who else should I talk to?”
Within a month, I landed my first contract. A former colleague introduced me to a nonprofit CEO. A networking call turned into an interview — and then into an offer. I’ll never forget the CEO’s words:
“Well, you’ve been quite busy since you stopped consulting.”
I felt seen, valued, and re-energized.
Three months later, I had a second contract. Less than a year after launching my business — on my 50th birthday, no less — I won the biggest contract of my career. My income returned to pre-break levels.
The Real Lesson?
We need to rethink how we talk about career breaks.
Because they’re not breaks. They’re alternate paths. Sometimes winding. Sometimes unpaid. But often full of growth, leadership, and perspective that deepens wisdom.
For anyone in the middle of one right now, here’s what I wish I had known:
You are not falling behind. You are building skills no performance review can capture.
My career break built capabilities no job ever could — resilience, advocacy, communication, and adaptability.
Yes, there were moments of doubt. There were nights I berated myself for being ‘just’ a stay-at-home mom. Times I questioned whether I needed more credentials. Plenty of tears. Plenty of half-baked ideas.
What helped most? Finding my people — mentors, friends, coaches — who reminded me that caregiving is work. That the strategy, creativity, and systems-thinking I was applying at home and in volunteer work still counted. My value didn’t disappear when the title did.
Their belief held me up until I could believe again.
So, here’s my advice — for women stepping back in, and for the organizations evaluating candidates with résumé gaps:
- Know your story. Every chapter counts. It just may be up to you to articulate why.
- Know your strengths. They may not fit neatly into a job description — but they’re real.
- Know your worth. Don’t let anyone — including yourself — discount it.
When you do, opportunities unfold.