Contradictorily Yours: Embracing the “And”

If you’ve ever felt boxed in by expectations—especially about what it means to be a woman—you know how real the struggle can be. Growing up, the message I got was simple: your worth is tied to being someone’s wife and mother. The plan? Go from your father’s house to your husband’s, build a life centered on home and family. That was supposed to be enough.

But it never sat right with me. I pushed back hard. I was angry at the idea that my value came from roles I hadn’t chosen for myself. So I did what a lot of us do—I swung the pendulum the other way. I vowed to be career-driven, fiercely independent, unstoppable. I swore off dating, dismissed the idea of family, and poured everything into my work. I was determined to prove I was more than a stereotype.

Then, life had other plans.

I met my partner by accident—at least, that’s how it felt. I told myself nothing would change. We’d be a power couple, still ambitious, still driven. But when I found out I was having a daughter, something inside me shifted. I wasn’t ready for how much it would change my heart.

Suddenly, I was staring down a contradiction I couldn’t ignore. For years, I’d defined myself by my ambition and achievements. Now, I was a mother—and that title carried a weight I hadn’t expected. I tried to tell myself I could do it all: motherhood in the margins, career front and center. But the cost was higher than I’d imagined.

I struggled to bond with my daughter. I felt constantly split, like I was failing at both roles. The guilt was relentless. The self-doubt, too. I kept waiting for the moment it would all click into place, but it never did.

Eventually, the weight of it all caught up with me. I couldn’t ignore the ache inside—the need to be present, to connect, to slow down. I realized there’s a truth that’s easy to say but hard to live: you can do anything, but you can’t do everything.

That truth didn’t come gently. It came wrapped in guilt and a whole lot of self-reckoning. But as hard as it was, it brought me something unexpected: freedom.

The real breakthrough wasn’t choosing between ambition and motherhood. It was learning to embrace the contradiction. I am both. I am all. I am the woman who dreams big and works hard, and I am the woman who wants to snuggle her daughter before preschool drop-off. I’m not less of one because I’m also the other.

Contradiction, I’ve learned, isn’t a sign of failure. It’s a sign of authenticity.

So I stopped trying to force a perfect image. I stopped shaming myself for feeling pulled in different directions. I started allowing myself to show up as I am—ambitious and nurturing, career-driven and family-oriented. Messy, evolving, real.

If you’ve ever felt that tension between who you thought you were supposed to be and who you’re becoming, you’re not alone. That tension is where growth happens. Embrace the contradiction. It’s not a weakness. It’s the truest sign you’re becoming who you’re meant to be.