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This story is based on a conversation with Danielle Cadet, 37, a freelance brand consultant, editorial strategist, and podcast host from Atlanta. It has been edited for length and clarity. My family is from Haiti, and I'm a first-generation American. I've always felt the pressure to succeed and make my parents proud, especially as a young Black woman. They work in the medical field and were shocked when I said I wanted to be a journalist, but I was determined to make it work. My mentor often told me that I punched above my weight, which helped fuel my natural ambition. I was always pushing for the next opportunity. My hours were crazy long. I remember working through the night when I was covering major news stories. Years later, becoming a mother would rock all this. I never thought having kids would decrease my level of ambition My work didn't leave much room for dating. In the back of my mind, I hoped I might meet someone and settle down, but it wasn't a priority. I could work holidays and weekends. All I had was myself and my dog. I could jump on a train or a plane without having to check in with my husband and kids first. Then, in February 2017, I met my person. Jonathan, now 38, checked all the boxes. He was incredibly intelligent — a corporate lawyer — and attractive, and we were on the same level in terms of achievement. We got married in October 2019 and started trying for a baby. I'd reported so much on Black maternal health — including the higher rates of infertility and risks during pregnancy — that I wanted to know sooner, rather than later, if I was going to have any problems conceiving. I wasn't really thinking about how it would affect me professionally. Jonathan had always championed me as a working woman, so after we got pregnant relatively easily, I never thought I'd have to decrease my level of ambition. Related stories Business Insider tells the innovative stories you want to know Business Insider tells the innovative stories you want to know In fact, I secured an editorial director position at Netflix in October 2020, while seven months pregnant. Our first daughter, Lenox, was born that December, and I was fortunate enough to take eight months of paid maternity leave. Motherhood rocked my world There was the option to take a whole year off, but I decided to go back to Netflix in August 2021 and work from home because of the ongoing pandemic. Netflix is based in Los Angeles, and we lived in Atlanta. Conditions under COVID had begun to improve, and there were conversations about moving to the West Coast because of the return to the office trend. The old Danielle — the carefree singleton with no ties — wouldn't have batted an eyelash about relocating, but this time was different. I'd have to leave behind my extended family, who helped with Lenox. We had no childcare lined up in LA, and Jonathan and I were reticent about moving. In the end, I wound up traveling to California to meet with my team instead of fully relocating. However, that didn't stop me from struggling with maintaining a work-life balance. Motherhood had rocked my world, and I had an identity crisis. I'd be nursing Lenox while frantically writing emails. I worked West Coast hours in Atlanta, so I'd find myself in meetings way after 8 p.m. People would be talking in circles, and I'd think, "This isn't important. Who cares? I just want to put my daughter to bed." My two words collided in a really intense way. Now that I was a mother with all the responsibilities that came with it, could I continue to be a high-flying executive? Still, I was determined to achieve my ultimate goal of reaching the editor in chief level. I became executive editor and vice president of communications at Essence Communications. I spoke on panels, interviewed high-profile celebrities, and became the face of the brand. The 20-something Danielle would not have recognized her older self as a mom That shifted when we decided to try for another baby. Yes, I had my dream job, but it was draining me. The desire to have another kid put it into perspective. It felt unsustainable, both physically and emotionally. It wasn't the kind of environment where I could give birth again and still feel good about my ability to grow in corporate America. I was in denial for months, but I finally concluded that I needed to take a step back — a pause. I left Essence in June 2023, and we found out we were expecting in August. It was pretty quick, and I think it had a lot to do with not being stressed or on a plane all the time. I was able to live in a way I'd never been before. Emerson was born in March 2024, and life was very different. The 20-something Danielle would not have recognized the Danielle who was changing diapers, rocking babies, and making dinners for her family. It was a complete 180. Still, it wasn't straightforward. I'd take a nap with the baby and take in that beautiful newborn scent, but I had unresolved questions in my head. "Who the hell are you, if you are doing something for another person as soon as you open your eyes?" I thought. Those questions led me to the concept of the pause button. I didn't have to press stop; I could take some time to recalibrate before pressing the start button on my career again. I've taken the idea further by launching a podcast, "Pregnant Pause," in July 2025. It's aimed at Black women at the intersection of ambition and motherhood, exploring all the factors that go into deciding to — or deciding not to — start a family. My podcast talks to women navigating family and professional planning My career had been my North Star for decades. Then it evolved into being a mom. But it will inevitably pivot in the future. I'm motivated by showing my daughters that they can charter their lives and control their own story. They don't have to fit inside a prescription for success written by someone else. I hope my girls will look at me and think, "Mom took this really scary leap of faith, and we're proud."
