(My son Vincent, 1 month old, November 2024, Autumn Bri Photography)
I’ve probably started and stopped this blog more times than I can count. For what feels like well over a year, each time I sat down to write it, I watched as my fingers hoovered just above my keyboard.
Frozen.
How much of myself did I want to reveal? What parts did I want to keep hidden and protected? Within those answers was a lesson I now wish to share; one that led me to look beyond the veil of a life I thought I’d already had all figured out.
It seems ironic that as someone who created a business that centers around the concept of anonymity, I intentionally chose to live out most of my adult life online. From jetsetting to close deals to public stages in front of thousands, I knew that the lifestyle I’d signed up for involved being seen, and I embraced every part of it. I craved it. Of all the titles I’ve ever worn, “hustler” had always been my favorite. I loved the thrill of ideating a plan, and watching as I moved heaven and earth to bring it to life. It’s what made my business what it is today.
Then last spring, a transformation began to take shape within me—I was becoming a mother.
Months later, my now husband surprised me with a proposal during a picnic he’d meticulously planned at one of my favorite local parks; no cameras, no fanfare. Just us. The moment was perfect and aligned with how we’d chosen to live out our relationship since the very first day we met. Of course, I’d had partners before, but this one, I wanted to protect. From the very beginning, he was someone I wanted to enjoy, counter to the parts of myself I shared online. But, in true form, and like any woman now happily engaged, I couldn’t wait to (publicly) share the news. I was ready to let my online and in real life community show up for what I hoped would be the start of a beautiful new journey (spoiler: it’s all that and so much more!)
But this—the carrying of life—stirred up something different. Suddenly, I realized that every prying eye or inquiring mind may not have been what I once perceived it to be. The version that had grown used to living life on a public stage, now wanted nothing more than to retreat into the safety of my home and husband, and prepare for the greatest role of my life.
I’ve always wanted a large family. But within that dream was also the naive belief that I wouldn’t step into that life if it would cost me my old one. I witnessed the women around me often trade in one for the other when I wanted to be both. I saw the assumptions that others inflicted upon working mothers, especially business owners and executives, and tried my best to ensure it never fell upon me. So, on that fateful day when my pregnancy test came back positive, I made what became the easiest decision ever.
Beyond the bond I began building with my unborn son, I was cautious to keep news of him private to upkeep some of the professional relationships with those around me. For my clients, I feared they would hear my good news and translate it to mean I could no longer perform, that I wasn’t as sharp, or that I was no longer capable of exceeding their expectations. For industry peers, I feared they’d assume my priorities had drastically shifted, and the work I’d poured myself into for over two decades was last on my list of to-do’s.
In some ways, my instincts were right.
The months I spent away from public eyes weren’t planned, but became the start of a spiritual journey I have yet to find the words to describe. My routine went from full day clients calls and team meetings to daily prayer notes and journal entries that today sit tucked away in a book on my son’s bedroom bookshelf (I can’t wait for him to one day read the many letters I wrote to him while awaiting his arrival). As quickly as it once occurred, my conversations went from closing deals to asking friends about best practices for a healthy pregnancy and birth. From the moment my son had chosen me to be his mother, nothing else in my life mattered more. Long before I ever heard his first heartbeat, I knew that I would never love anyone or anything quite the same.
I want to say that those months were overflowing with unimaginable bliss, and while it was, deep below the surface was also grief. The silence I was able to fill with prayer was created by the loneliness I now felt. The casual check-ins from some girlfriends and peers, personal connections whom I believed were much closer than it now proved to be, began to slow and eventually stopped. Was I no longer of value because I’d taken a step back from the spotlight?
The list of “friends” I shared my good news with was few, and very much by design, so it broke my heart when silence replaced the late night calls that were often filled with belly laughs and randomness. I watched the world move forward while mine stood still. Had something in me changed so drastically? Had the very things that had bonded us for so long suddenly become undone? It was almost as if, overnight, I’d gone from the most prized possession to a trophy that had been thrown aside, collecting dust in a corner. While growing a human inside of my tummy for nine months, I felt invisible to most.
I’m careful with my words because the truth of the matter is that there are a handful of friends who did check for me consistently throughout my pregnancy and I don’t want to overshadow the ones who made every effort to call, text, DM, and even fly to see me in-person. A village does exist and there are bonds that didn’t weaken as a result of my life transition. I am grateful for that. But both things can be true. I treasure the connections that remain and will continue to invest everything in my capacity to strengthen them (my true friendships are 2-sided), and I still grieve the loss of some friendships that didn’t survive life’s recent twists and turns. Distance grew between us for whatever reason.
Despite the shift, and with God in my corner, I’m thankful that my business remained consistent, and month after month my bills and payroll were covered, and then some. But, when compared to what I’d grown accustomed to, the silence was palatable, and in many ways, it forced me to shatter the illusion of the “old life” I’d once fought so hard to hold on to.
I struggled with wanting to step out from the shadows to “reclaim” my space in the limelight, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t what my heart craved at the moment. I had to readjust and redefine what “slow” and “silent” meant to me. In business, those are two very scary words to have in a singular sentence. But as motherhood quickly approached, it was realized that when paired together, it formed the foundation upon which a new version of myself was born.
As much as I wanted to wallow in what was happening, in actuality it came along with welcomed clarity. The space that their absence created challenged me to decide what I wanted to fill it with before my son came. It revealed the things that truly mattered to me, and forced me to redefine what I needed from family, friendships, business partnerships, and even my husband. The stillness I was experiencing asked me to question what I wanted from myself. But what I’m also grateful for in that transition is the friends who inquired about what this new version of me needed.
While I was still very much getting comfortable with her, my only wish was simple: please don’t forget about me.
So often, as new or even seasoned mothers we fear being left behind within the social circles that once, and continue to, bring so much love into our lives. My friendships very much hold a special place in my heart, and I’m beyond blessed for the ones who made it through this journey with me.
As the weeks turned to months, and his arrival date drew close, it was with a clear mind and a full heart that I slowly found my way back to my peace despite the ocean of emotions I found myself treading daily. I knew I was a badass business woman who had created an amazing career, but even in that knowing, I questioned how much of that did I’d have to shed to wear the coveted title of “mother”? Suddenly, it seemed I had so many things to figure out. As a business owner, you know that the work never stops, and vacations meant taking your laptop down to the pool with you while you soaked up some sun.
Slapped with one of my hardest lessons, I realized I’d never really carved out a plan for what maternity leave would look like for me or for my company. Could I step away from my laptop, and relinquish daily happenings to my team while I took time to recover? The very thought felt laughable. So much so that, even when I had to be rushed to the hospital in labor, I remained online all day with my team, unbeknownst to them. I feared not answering calls, or leaving emails without a response. My blood pressure got so high that my doctors warned if I didn’t step away—turn off the agency owner and activate the soon-to-be-mother—a stroke or seizure would force me to. Looking back on those moments, I often ask myself why I choose to stay plugged in down to the very last second. Well, reality is, I didn’t think I had a choice.
That all changed the second he was born. In that brightly lit hospital room, with my son snuggled in my arms, I learned my first real lesson as a mother: the days of doing the most were no longer necessary. I simply didn’t need it anymore. From that day forward, even if it undid all the sureties I thought I knew about myself and my career, I was giving myself permission to operate differently.
With the birth of my son, life asked me: What do I need? What do I want? But most importantly, and with grace, it asked me, who do I want to be? The answer was clear: Baby boy’s mother . His birth had taken me out from the comforts of what was, and split me open to reveal someone new.
Without ever having to ask or utter a word, I’d been released from the people and things that no longer served the parts of me I needed to be—for the next chapter of my life, but for the entirety of my son’s.
The bonds we build will always sway in the winds of life’s transitions, but when their roots are dug deep enough, it ensures they don’t break. Thank you to the friends and loved ones who held the parts of me until I found the strength to put her back together, this time anew. But most of all, thank you for empowering me to lean into being both in a world that often tells mothers they need to be either/or. With your love and guidance, I’ve also learned how to be better to my own community, for those who are already mothers, and those who are soon to be.
At night, as I lay next to him, watching as my heart beats in perfect unison with the rising and falling of his chest, I know that, of all the titles I still very much adorn, this one–-mother—is one I will never get tired of.
So, with that said, the trophy is finally coming down off the shelf. This year I am outside- not posting too much online just as yet- but very much reconnecting with my community IRL. Since putting some feelers out, I’ve been consistently booked for speaking engagements. Each time I step onto the stage, my confidence grows and I feel more like myself again. I’m working with my therapist to settle into the idea that I hold the pen to rewrite my story and I am proud of myself for doing it at my own pace. With the nerves is also growth. The birth of my first child has completely pulled my life apart at the seams, but with the pieces that remain, it’s woven into something truly beautiful.
A BIT ABOUT ME: Hi! My name is Pauleanna Reid. I’m the founder and chief storyteller at WritersBlok where I lead an all-women of color team of celebrity ghostwriters. As a collective, we help industry leaders and doers who are shaping the future turn their personal stories into brand assets so they can stay relevant in a noisy world, communicate to their audience at scale, and turn any conversation into a meaningful and profitable lead. Clients truly trust me with their reputations and their legacies. In fact, when they want to speak up on a hot topic and shake the room, I’m the woman they call. Many of them have me on speed dial, why don’t you?