You know that moment—when the last light is turned off, and she’s sitting there on the couch, phone screen glowing with emails and calendars. We’ve all seen those shoulders. The weight of deadlines, the invisible pull of unspoken mom guilt, that silent question of ‘Am I enough for both?’ Maybe we’re sitting right beside her, but we’re still learning to see her load.
The Weight We Never See
I used to watch her prepare breakfast meetings—like a conductor of the morning rush hour. Seriously, I’d just stand there in awe, wondering how she did it without losing her mind. The way she juggles choppy conference calls with a child’s lost shoe, while still managing to whisper ‘I love you’ to the doorway.
I thought it was talent. But watching her hands shake while typing that late-night email—it’s not talent, friends. It’s courage. The kind of courage that makes me wonder, when did I last see the person behind the superhuman?
Last week, when she texted me a picture of our daughter’s school play—midday—from her office bathroom. I was proud. Then I realized.
That’s the only place she could pause for 30 seconds without being seen as ‘unavailable.’ That’s real strength, right there. And that’s when she looked at me, exhausted, and said, ‘I’m not failing them… am I?’
The Balancing Act That’s Not a Solo Act
And as I watched her navigate these daily challenges, I began to understand that this wasn’t just about carrying weight—it was about the constant balancing act between two worlds.
We’ve all seen that moment—the moment when the work laptop lingers, open, and she’s halfway through the bedtime story. I used to call it ‘multitasking.’ But right now, I’m seeing the truth.
The real work isn’t balancing. It’s choosing between two worlds. And that’s where we can step in—not as a hero, but as a partner.
I remember the weekday morning—three minutes. She was in a Zoom call with her boss, and I saw her hands shaking. That day, I took the kids outside. We blew bubbles.
Beyond the window, she was smiling. We didn’t save the world—we just gave her back three minutes. Three minutes. That’s how small the difference between drowning and breathing can be.
Last month, she had to attend an in-person conference across town. I took the day off to handle our daughter’s school pickup and extracurriculars. Walking into that conference center at 5 p.m., coffee in hand, felt like the grandest gesture I could make. Sometimes support looks like showing up.
The Shared Act of Holding On
Working moms, hear this—and I’m saying this to wives too. That strength is beautiful. But what if we remind ourselves? She doesn’t need to be a superhero. She just needs a partner.
Growing up with both Korean and Canadian influences, I’ve seen different approaches to work and family. But one thing transcends cultures—that quiet strength of a mother who’s trying to do it all.
Someone who’s noticed the way she carries the weight. We can’t do life for her—but we can share the holding.
Just yesterday, I saw her pause. We were in the kitchen, and she said, ‘I’m sorry—I feel like I’m failing at everything.’ I thought, ‘Failing? Love, you’re carrying the world.’
And instead of the old ‘I’ll help you,’ I said, ‘We’re in this together.’ And that’s when it hit me—the real work-life balance isn’t about balancing—it’s about sharing the weight.
We’re not a tightrope, friends. We can be a safety net.
Source: Sitdown Sunday: ChatGPT is causing chaos in marriages, The Journal, 2025-09-28