How Do You Leave a Career You Actually Love After Having Kids?
Most career advice for working parents assumes you're trying to escape a toxic workplace or a soul-sucking job. But what if that's not your story?
What if you actually love your work? What if you wake up excited about your projects, energized by your team, proud of what you've built? What if leaving isn't about running away from something bad—but toward something that matters more?
That's the tension nobody talks about. And it's one of the hardest decisions you'll ever make.
Because when you leave a career you love, you're not just quitting a job. You're dismantling an identity. You're walking away from a version of yourself that you worked years to become. And you're doing it knowing that some people will never understand why.
Let me walk you through what this actually looks like—and why it might be the right decision even when it breaks your heart.
The Career You Didn't Want to Leave
Picture this: You spent years building your career. You overcame setbacks, developed expertise, earned respect in your industry. You're not just good at what you do—you genuinely enjoy it.
Your work challenges you. Your colleagues inspire you. The problems you solve matter. On Sunday nights, you don't dread Monday morning. You actually look forward to it.
This isn't a job you're tolerating until something better comes along. This is a career you intentionally built. One you're proud of.
Then you have a baby.
And suddenly, the career that fit your life perfectly... doesn't fit anymore.
Not because the work changed. But because you did.
The Impossible Math Nobody Warns You About
You tell yourself you can make it work. Lots of people do, right? You negotiate part-time. You set boundaries. You hire help. You optimize everything.
But here's what nobody tells you about certain industries: the boundaries are theoretical at best.
Commission-based work? Time-sensitive deals? Client-facing roles? Industries where "emergencies" are constant and deadlines don't care that it's your day off?
You can say you're working Monday through Thursday. You can technically have Fridays off. But when a deal is closing or a client needs you or your team is underwater, what are you supposed to do? Let opportunities slip away? Let people down? Prove that part-time employees aren't as committed?
So you work during your "off" hours. You respond to emails during naptime. You jump on calls after bedtime. You say you have boundaries, but really, you're just working all the time with more guilt layered on top.
And the math gets worse when you do it:
8am-5pm in the office
5pm-7:30pm with your kid
7:30pm-10pm back on your laptop
You're giving 100% to work. You're giving 100% to parenting. And somehow you're failing at both.
When Your Worth Gets Questioned (Even When You Understand Why)
Here's the part that stings: Sometimes, when you go part-time or need flexibility, your compensation changes. Your benefits shift. Your role adjusts.
And intellectually, you get it. You understand the business logic. You know how budgets work, how commission structures operate, how teams need to function.
But emotionally? It feels like your value just decreased. Like all those years of building expertise and delivering results suddenly don't matter as much because you can't stay until 6pm anymore.
You find yourself in this awful position of simultaneously understanding the decision and feeling the deep unfairness of it.
Because the work you're producing is still excellent. Your skills haven't diminished. Your commitment is still there—it's just spread across more priorities now.
But the system wasn't built for that. And neither were you.
The Decision That Changes Everything
For some women, the breaking point comes when they're pregnant with baby number two. Or three. Or when they find out it's twins.
Suddenly, the mental math you were doing to make one child work becomes completely impossible. Three kids in daycare? A nanny for multiple children? The costs alone are staggering—potentially more than you'd bring home working part-time.
But it's not just about money. It's about bandwidth. Energy. Presence. The person you want to be versus the person you're capable of being when you're stretched that thin.
When you call your team to tell them you're not coming back, they're not surprised. They might even have been expecting it. Because everyone can see what you've been doing—the hustle, the juggle, the constant negotiation between competing priorities.
You love your career. You love your team. You're good at what you do.
And you're still leaving.
What Nobody Tells You About the Aftermath
Here's the part that gets skipped in most career transition stories: What do you do with all that drive and ambition when you're home with small children?
Because high achievers don't just flip a switch and become content. Your brain is still wired to solve problems, build things, make an impact. The only difference is now your daily reality involves Daniel Tiger and diaper changes instead of client meetings and strategic planning.
Some women redirect that energy into entrepreneurship—starting businesses during naptime, building solutions to problems they're personally experiencing, using their professional skills in new contexts.
Others focus on being fully present with their kids for a season, trusting that their careers will be there when they're ready.
And many do some combination of both—finding ways to stay engaged professionally while prioritizing family in ways that weren't possible in their previous roles.
The key thing to understand: Leaving doesn't mean giving up on yourself. It means honoring what matters most right now, in this season of your life.
The Questions You're Really Asking
When people say "I don't know how to leave a career I love," what they're really asking is:
"Am I giving up on myself if I step away?"
No. You're making space for a different version of success—one that might look nothing like what you planned, but matters deeply to who you're becoming.
"Will I ever be able to go back?"
Yes—if you want to. The skills you built don't expire. The relationships don't disappear. The industry doesn't forget you. Doors stay open, especially when you leave well.
"Does this decision have to be permanent?"
Absolutely not. Few career decisions are as permanent as they feel in the moment. You can step away for two years, five years, a decade—and still return when the timing works. You can pivot to something completely different. You can build something new.
The only thing that's permanent is this moment—and this moment requires you to make the best decision you can with the information and resources you have right now.
The Advice Worth Hearing
If you're sitting with this impossible decision right now—loving your career but struggling to make it work with parenthood—here's what you need to know:
Give yourself grace. You're not failing. You're navigating an impossible system that asks you to be 100% in two places at once. That's not a personal flaw—it's a structural problem.
When you're with your kids, be present. Even if it's not as much time as you wish it were, quality attention matters. They'll remember your presence, not your productivity.
Communicate clearly with your employer. Be honest about what you need and what you can give. The more clearly both parties communicate, the better chance you have of finding a solution that actually works.
Know that stepping back isn't giving up. If you can afford to take a break financially, doing so for a few years doesn't close doors forever. Your expertise remains valuable. Your options stay open.
Find your people. Other parents who are navigating this same tension. People who get it—who understand why this is so hard even when it "shouldn't" be.
What Makes This Decision Brave
Leaving a career you love requires a different kind of courage than leaving a job you hate.
When you hate your job, leaving feels like freedom. When you love your job, leaving feels like loss.
You're not running away from toxicity. You're choosing something that matters more—even though the choice costs you something significant.
You're admitting that you can't have it all, at least not in the configuration you thought you could. You're acknowledging your limits. You're honoring your whole self, not just the part that shows up at the office.
That's not weakness. That's wisdom.
The Real Answer
So how do you leave a career you actually love after having kids?
You do it knowing that love isn't always enough. That sometimes the right decision still hurts. That choosing your family doesn't diminish your professional worth or your ambition.
You do it by trusting that this isn't the end of your career story—it's a chapter. One that might look different than you planned, but is no less valuable.
You do it by believing that the skills, drive, and expertise that made you excellent at your job will serve you in whatever comes next—whether that's entrepreneurship, a future return to the industry, or something you can't even imagine yet.
And you do it by giving yourself permission to grieve what you're leaving behind while still moving forward.
Because this isn't about choosing between your career and your family. It's about choosing the version of success that aligns with who you're becoming, not who you used to be.
Want to hear one woman's real story of leaving commercial real estate to start her own business?
In Episode 113 of the All Figured Out podcast, Mackenzie Forge shares her journey from varsity athlete to commercial real estate broker to twin mom and entrepreneur. She talks candidly about the guilt of not being enough for either work or family, the decision to leave a career she genuinely loved, and how she built Forge Magnetic Clothing during naptime. It's honest, it's raw, and it might be exactly what you need to hear.