Dear Future President,
Tomorrow, I will face a heart-wrenching decision. Once again, I will have to leave my newborn behind, an experience that has become all too familiar for me. Despite my hopes, this will mark the fourth time I endure such pain, and my heart feels heavy with the weight of it.
I’ve been advised to toughen up and reminded of the privilege of having a job. It’s often said that teaching is one of the easiest professions, and my schedule is ideal for a working mother. While I appreciate my job and understand the importance of hard work, these comments fail to capture the emotional toll I experience as I prepare to leave my baby.
As I ready myself for yet another day at work, I will rush to complete as many tasks as possible for my children before I leave. I know I am not alone; countless working mothers are navigating similar challenges for the sake of their families. While I embrace hard work—having launched a photography business, a fitness venture, and a writing career alongside my teaching job—I don’t seek accolades for my efforts. My commitment reflects a desire to ensure my family’s well-being, rather than an assertion of superiority over others.
We are a typical middle-class family. My husband and I both have stable jobs, allowing us to provide for our four children. Yet, despite our hard work, we barely make ends meet once our mortgage, student loans, and bills are accounted for. If you were to ask our children what they desire most, their answer would be simple: they want us, especially their mom.
Tomorrow will be another challenging morning. I will wipe away tears, detach tiny hands from around my neck, and say goodbye to my newborn. I won’t be there to tend to her needs throughout the day or to comfort her when she cries. Even as I strive to maintain a brave face, I know my emotions will spill over, and my children will see the sadness in my eyes.
As I step out the door, I will glance back at tear-streaked faces and hear my baby’s cries echoing behind me. The emotional weight will be overwhelming as I head to my classroom, where over twenty eager second graders await my guidance. Though my heart aches, I will muster the strength to fulfill my role as their teacher.
My baby, only nine weeks old, is beginning to recognize me. She smiles when she hears my voice, and her eyes light up when I enter the room. She has come to understand that I am her comfort, the one who attends to her every need. Yet, tomorrow, I will have to leave her in the care of others.
The lack of paid maternity leave in the United States is a reality that is difficult to accept. As a mother, I yearn for the opportunity to bond with my newborn, to nurse her, and to enjoy those early moments without the pressure of returning to work. Instead, I will face the frustration of pumping in a confined space while trying to teach and inspire my students.
I ask you, Future President, why is our nation one of the few developed countries without laws ensuring paid maternity leave? This situation is disheartening, especially as I prepare to leave my last baby behind. I had hoped that by now, policies would have changed to allow mothers the time to nurture and bond with their children.
As I prepare to join countless other mothers in this emotional struggle, I urge you to advocate for policies that protect this vital time for mothers and their newborns. We should not have to face these challenges alone; support for working mothers is essential.
In closing, I implore you to consider how we can create a system that allows mothers to bond with their children without the burden of financial strain. Together, let’s work toward a future where we don’t have to be warriors just to fulfill our roles as parents.
Sincerely,
Jessica Moore