When I was asked to write about my experiences as a ‘working mom’, I got to thinking, now do I know a mom who is NOT working? Well, not really? But going by the contemporary interpretation of the term, which seriously needs a re-think, it is taken to mean mothers who are shouldering some professional responsibilities besides taking care of their children.

I know of so many amazing women who have done both, and have excelled at both that I can’t imagine my personal story to be in any way extraordinary. I know pilots who have gone on transcontinental flights, performed surgeries, controlled aircrafts, produced publications, and films and advertising campaigns today, before yesterday deadlines, and at no time did their homes or children give the impression of having been neglected.

However, it would be wrong to suggest that any of it would have been possible without a necessary support network of physical help and supervision. Needless to say though, it still requires a lot of juggling, and boy was it a juggling act.

I was editor of a monthly magazine when I was expecting my first child, but since childbirth was an uncharted territory, I resigned a month before delivery despite the employer’s offer of leave extending beyond the maternity leave period. The first couple of months, before I was able to get and train a reliable helper, were chaotic, if that word can describe a young mother trying to cope with a baby’s demands on her health, sleep, rest, and sanity. Work, social life, hobbies seemed to belong to another planet.

But they didn’t. They were right here, in the same dimension as me, only waiting to get noticed again. That happened when the employer called after about four months to ask if I was ready to ‘resume’ work, taking me completely by surprise. Though guilt tugged at me, the temptation to say yes was too great and I succumbed to it. Maybe because working in an office environment develops an ability of time management, so I did find I had time on my hand after all that needed to be done at home.

This was the start of the juggling act. I negotiated a half day package, which meant I left in the morning after taking care of my daughter’s needs, who had enviable sleeping habits, and was back by the afternoon. Time enough for my work, and time enough for her and time to include that much needed element back into life -- rest!

The breather, however, was short-lived, as child number two announced his arrival. Two children eleven months apart meant I was almost bringing up twins, and this meant going into zombie mode, because one’s crying spell would trigger the other’s and so on and so forth. Life was a whirl of bottles, nappies, doctors’ visits, magazine deadlines, and outstation visits, which had never come my way when I was single.

If I was juggling three balls before the arrival of my son, now more had been added into the game, and were putting my dexterity to test. Boy was I lucky that the tentative suggestion of flexitime was agreed to and I was able to snatch time to look after the children and manage the magazine, while becoming totally oblivious to the 24-hour cycle in a day.

It was only after they started going to school that the glazed look cleared off my eyes. Now I was juggling with a demanding job in an insane industry called advertising, which too makes one lose any sense of timing. As the family size grew to three children, so did my responsibilities within my profession.

The juggler in me was attending briefing sessions, interspersed with parent teacher meetings, presentations, sports days and concerts, World War III arbitration sessions due to sibling rivalries. I will never ever forget the words of my dear, late friend and cricket writer, Gul Hameed Bhatti, to whom I had just said that I could not wait to see the children grow up. He had a good laugh and brought me down to the earth with a thud by saying that as children grow, so do the issues related to them.

The words were prophetic, as I have learnt over these past 25 years. School performance, peer pressure, career choices, social circles, relationship issues of children always were the cause of more concern, stress, exultation than any professional milestones.

Yes, recognition of professional excellence brought immense satisfaction, but could in no way measure up against the accolades won by the children, in their educational journey, as well as in their careers. Being a mother of an award-winning daughter is a matter of a greater pride than winning an award myself.

When my son’s employer waxes lyrical about his professional competence, his commitment, and hardwork, and when my youngest, fresh out-of-teen shows me the commendations from her teachers and bosses, am I wrong in at least claiming a bit of the credit for that as they could see how commitments can be met despite competing claims on attention and time?

So, being a ‘working mom’ was one hell of a roller-coaster ride, but one I would not miss if I am given half a chance again, despite the sleepless nights, dishevelled appearance, messy car, and frazzled existence!

The writer is a freelancer and conducts media trainings and research. This article appeared in The News on Sunday on March 2, 2014 with the title A juggling act