Mothers deserve a raise
If mothering is truly the ‘most important job in the world’, then I’m waiting for the world to show me the money.
I'm in my third trimester with my second child - weeks away from disposable underwear and leak-proof bras packed neatly in the hospital bag. Needless to say, I have plenty of time to scroll on Instagram as I bounce on the newly acquired ‘exercise’ ball to get this baby out.
Liked by over 6,400 people, shared by a further 1,300, one motherhood author and podcaster with an enthusiastic following reassures me that my work as a mother matters. “The most important, unseen role there is.”
In bold text at the bottom of the copy: “It’s invisible, but it matters.” That’s nice, I think. At least this commentator sees all the bouncing I’m doing, and the childcare drop-offs I’ve picked up since parental leave kicked in.
But then I get thinking. If this bouncing is indeed the most important job, then I’d like a promotion.
Image: Emma and her child Bon at the park.
Don’t get me wrong. Up to 22 weeks at the country’s minimum wage is a starting point, but a starting point is all.
Indeed holding out in the part-time job that I should have left for a more senior role, all so that I could access the 16 weeks paid parental leave available under their EBA after one year of service, is again another sweetener to the parenting deal.
With some good old planning and professional compromises, we’re now talking over nine months that I’ll now receive some level of financial remuneration for.
While the amount is significantly lower than many women’s earning potential in their mid to late 30s, it provides our family with precious rent and food money to support my postnatal recovery, months of nursing and the early care for an infant with a chromosome abnormality.
That is nice, but then I wonder some more. Who was flipping the bill in my first trimester, when my sick-leave ran out during the literal months of excessive fatigue and nausea I experienced?
Not only indicators of a healthy pregnancy but debilitating symptoms like this in early pregnancy impacts some 75% of birthing people; commonly minimised in popular culture (and workplace culture for that matter) as ‘Morning Sickness’.
I’m kidding. My partner and I made sure no one else had to cover this cost, as I turned up to work as a shell of an employee over these three months, and relied on my partner with flexible work-hours to undertake all domestic and parenting responsibilities throughout.
And then of course, who covered, let me count, the eight to ten midwife appointments at hospital, five scans, four physio appointments for pelvic girdle pain, four GP appointments, four blood checks, three genetic counselling appointments, one amniocentesis test, and let’s add in the two hour gestational diabetes class that the registrar all but mandated?
The public health system you say. Yes, well that certainly made access to healthcare an option for us and covered the lion's share. But for the most important job in the world, I would have hoped that my time and travel costs to attend these hours of appointments during work hours were too generously compensated for like any other important stakeholder meeting.
I would also expect my workplace to be able to seamlessly accommodate these appointments, despite the looming deadlines they’re facing and the number of meetings I’ve had to dial in from yet another public hospital waiting room.
For some lucky recipients, employee bargaining and internal gender-equality priorities now have workplaces offering some 38 hours in reproductive / pregnancy leave that help cover these appointments in work hours. However, not mandated by the Australian Fair Work Ombudsman, they remain far from the norm and not without their difficulty to adopt.
To add insult to injury, my fast rising vitamin bills now at $50 a month, and the gourmet diet prescribed during a cost of living crisis, for what’s that? A “healthy pregnancy” and “healthy baby” ticks away at our budget. And that’s just gestational costs.
I’ll let someone else fill in the gaps as to the costs of birth trauma that’s estimated to impact one in three women in Australia. Postnatal depression impacting one in five women in Australia.
The complex and unaffordable cost of childcare, and of course the excessive workplace leave needed to absorb the 17 viruses your child is expected to get in their first year of care. And of course, the true cost of breastfeeding to reach that golden one year mark, which again the Australian Government recommends in its breastfeeding strategy, but won’t accept my invoice for.
With those expenses in mind, if I see one more article from a male journalist, economist or commentator stressing the concerning birth-rate in Australia, without a nod to how drastically unrealistic the financial or workplace support continues to be for birthing people, I will gag.
Perhaps next time someone wants to reflect on the importance of birth-rates, they could instead reflect on ‘the most important job in the world’ and wonder, just why it’s then costing women and non-cis men so very much.