The Choices We Make for Family

When I was a new mom in my late thirties, I thought I just might be one of those remarkable women who could have it all—a fulfilling career and happy life at home with my husband and children. 

After nearly a decade of paying my dues in television news, I landed my dream job as a morning anchor in my hometown of Denver. A couple of years later, after struggling through infertility, my husband and I welcomed healthy twins, a boy and a girl.

For several years as a young mom, I was convinced I might have the nearly perfect life I desired. 

"Turns out, flexibility and balance also had costs."

It was often painful waking up after two o'clock in the morning to get to the station for my shift. And I felt guilty that I was not there when my children woke up. Instead, it was their dad or the nanny. 

But I made up for my absence by being Supermom once I got home, taking them to the park, attending music classes, or helping with their art projects. I was grateful to have quality time with the kids in the afternoons and evenings and then return to the work I loved the next day.

As our children got older, my husband started traveling regularly for his work. Suddenly, I was not just a working mom; I was a working mom doing most things singlehandedly. I was exhausted and stressed to the point of chest pains, constantly trying to meet the demands of two roles that both mattered to me.  

The pace got so overwhelming that when my kids were nearly five, I agreed to leave the news desk, move out of state, and support my husband’s job. That decision surprised a lot of people, including me. 

I had no idea how that choice would impact my identity, sense of self, and earning power for years to come. At the time, I thought I was making a difficult decision for my family. I did not fully recognize the hidden costs of that sacrifice. 

I missed working: the intellectual challenge, the adult interaction, and the paycheck that helped support our family. On a deeper level, my soul felt empty. It longed for more stimulation, creativity, and the feeling that I had a purpose, not as a mother, but as an individual—a person with gifts to share with the world. 

Less than a year later, I wanted to get back to work. 

It was harder than I expected to find another job in news. I also recognized that returning to a traditional full-time schedule would be grueling and would cost me valuable time with my kids. 

So, I reinvented myself, taking a new professional path freelancing in public relations. Starting over in a new industry was humbling. I enjoyed the work, but there was not much of it. I brought in a fraction of the income I had made in news—a small price to pay, I thought, so I could be my own boss and have a flexible schedule.

I was my children’s primary caregiver while also trying to build a business, but trying to do both meant neither got my full attention. There were many times I thought I was not doing enough as a mom. I was also acutely aware that I limited my professional growth to what could happen between the hours of eight in the morning and three in the afternoon before the kids got home.

Meanwhile, I had friends who found ways to prioritize their careers. I watched them achieve success at the network level in news or others climb to impressive heights in corporate America. I often felt underutilized, that I was not living up to my potential. My self-judgment was cruel and relentless. 

I also resented that while I was juggling my work and carrying most responsibilities around the house, my husband remained focused on his career growth unimpeded. I resented him and sometimes resented myself for making the choices I did. 

This was even more true when, nearly ten years after leaving the news business, my marriage unexpectedly blew up. The partnership I counted on when I scaled back my career, the one I believed would provide long-term financial security, was gone. 

Turns out, flexibility and balance also had costs. 

I do not regret being a mom. Not at all. Motherhood has filled my life with a richness no job could replace. Before becoming a mom, I could not have known the profound bond I would have with my children, that I would viscerally feel their every emotion—happiness, pain, sense of accomplishment, and doubt. Every memory sticks with me: daily carpooling and our light, silly banter, family holidays and game nights, recalling how hard I laughed watching them in the school talent show or cheering from the soccer field sidelines. I mostly treasure that I was able to have a significant impact on the lives of these two people, and to now admire the independent and principled adults they have become. 

Being a mom shaped me into a better person with a greater capacity to love. 

But here I am in my fifties, wondering what the future looks like and still wanting to contribute to the world. I sometimes wonder where I might be now if I hadn’t left my dream job all those years ago. 

What if? What if? What if?

My story is personal, and yet, it is not unique. For generations, many women have wrestled with the competing demands of motherhood and career. Despite some societal shifts, women disproportionately make these sacrifices for their loved ones. At first, the costs might not be obvious, but they are real.

I am aware that I am fortunate to have had a choice in adjusting my professional path for family, and I am not suggesting we ignore our desires to nurture and care for others. 

I do, however, wish that as a young mom, I had known that it’s impossible to be all things to everyone, including ourselves. Perhaps then I might have set different expectations for my life, or considered my own needs more when making my decisions.  

Katie Trexler is an Emmy-winning former television journalist turned public relations professional. She is the author of What Do I Tell My Daughter?, a debut memoir exploring career and motherhood, set for release in October 2026 by Simon & Schuster.