When my younger son, Teddy, was four, he barreled into my home office one day after preschool to present me with a drawing. “It’s you, Mommy,” he said, and I clicked out of whatever I was doing and thought for the millionth time how lucky I was to be embarking on this wild new journey of working for myself and not for The Man. At last, success, my way!

After spending 16 years weathering late closing nights and shrinking budgets at Hearst and Condé Nast (RIP, print magazines), I was writing a book and launching a business helping moms return to work after maternity leave. I interviewed hundreds of women to uncover systems and biases we could fight back against so that new working motherhood wouldn’t have to be such a pain point for so many talented women in a world that was still – even in women-led fields like magazines and beauty and fashion – so unfair. Bring your mom self to work, I told them. Ask for flexibility. Do not write off the pain of antiquated policies as a personal failing or – worse – mom guilt.

This was the first picture Teddy had ever drawn of me, and, oh it was cute. I had big eyes, no neck, a smile, and a messy bob (accurate). “I love it so much,” I told him. “And what’s this?” I asked, pointing to a gridded rectangle he’d drawn me holding. Was it a book, maybe, now that I was always home for bedtime? Or the game of Checkers we’d played last night? An Amazon delivery envelope with lovely new craft supplies inside, perhaps? 

“That’s you and your compooter, Mommy! Your very important compooter.” Oh.

What was it I was just saying about how mom guilt is a sham? The talisman my child had chosen for me was…my laptop. (Let me just reset my face for a sec, kiddo.) Within about two minutes I was over it, and these days, that picture he drew is now in almost every corporate deck I share, with pride. But I want to admit here to feeling that twinge of hypocrisy for not immediately loving it in that moment of my own awkward career transition. I am a capital F feminist, but also a product of the culture we all bathe in.

I share this story as the warts-and-all start of my inaugural “The Mother of Wisdom” column for CEW because — wisdom?! I have exactly zero mom hacks other than, “put cheese on it,” and, “but first, Lactaid.” Although I have enough grey hairs underneath my Madison Reed Catania Brown to probably make people think otherwise, I wouldn’t call myself “wise.” Motherhood, especially working motherhood, is a constant exercise in both humility and blind optimism. So, while technically, I’ll be offering advice, I hope what you take from it isn’t more stuff to add to your to-do list. Instead, my goal is that you’ll find camaraderie, comfort, and perspective, starting with these three reframes:

Reframe 1: Negotiating for what you need isn’t selfish, it’s generous.

So often, the women I counsel are negotiating at work for the first time ever, with the highest stakes possible, a new baby. Whether it’s a numbers negotiation (making your bonus whole after maternity leave), or personal logistics (shifting your hours a bit for drop-off), the first step of any negotiation is convincing yourself. So, know this: It’s beneficial to your employer to support your ability to keep showing up. Women in leadership are profit-drivers. (And, conversely, losing you costs a fortune – 213% of your salary if you make 100k or more.) The future of work, and of our economy, depends on the sustainability of you doing what you’re doing right now: Being a working, caregiving person.

And, time and time again, the thing that unlocks my clients’ confidence is hearing this: You’re not asking for your own, solo, one-person, needy self. You’re asking for everyone else around you who for one reason or another cannot speak up as loudly. I believe that one woman’s work dilemma, made visible, can be a tool for progress, and that anyone with the privilege of time and money should try to negotiate, not just for themselves but for everyone around them who holds less power. 

Reframe 2: The cure for mom guilt is less judging, more resentment-proofing.

Look, I admitted to the compooter twinge, but I still believe in my brain of brains (if not always my heart of hearts) that “mom guilt” is a sexist, classist, racist social construct. Feel free to use that line. No one is doing any criminal activities here! We are just living in a world where it is far easier for people to pit women against each other in false, judgey binaries of sleep training/breastfeeling/working/etc “choices” than it is to, like, pass universal child care or federal paid family leave. And we internalize that self blame. The answer, I truly, deeply believe is in asking, “how do I resentment-proof myself?” What would it take for you to not burn out and get bitter at your job? Or not be furious with your partner? Agency is so much more satisfying (and doable!) than scorched earth. See Reframe 1, above, and ask for the thing you need. 

Reframe 3: Bigger kids aren’t bigger problems, they’re bigger hope.

That little blushy boy is now 12. His big brother is 15. They are hilarious and huge and complicated. But every age so far has been more interesting than the last and more rewarding. They know a lot about my work – in part because I share it with them, and in part because the gender equity that has to be taught to my generation is just so natural in theirs. People talk about kids being “digital natives,” and I think this generation is “justice native.” Maybe all kids start out that way, little righteous demanders of equal-sized pieces of birthday cake. But Gen Z is holding on tight to fairness as the core value of their time. And it’s incredibly motivating for us all to build a future of work that will work one day for them. 

Lauren Smith Brody is the CEO of The Fifth Trimester, a gender equity firm, and a co-founder of the Chamber of Mothers, a public policy nonprofit.