“I wonder if I cry silently, the nurses will still pick it up from the fetal monitor.”
That’s the thought I remember the most vividly, not because it was dramatic, but because it was desperate. The kind of quiet, exhausted, desperate you feel when your body is doing too much and your mind is hanging on by a thread.
Two weeks in labor and delivery will do that to you. And the sound of the hospital food cart doesn’t help — imagine nails dragging across your inner ear, multiple times a day, while you’re contracting, bleeding, and bargaining with God about your baby’s safety.
But the tears that day weren’t about hospital food.
They were about a single email.
The one that said I was no longer being considered for the role I was this close to getting, the offer I had worked my ASS off for. The job that would have changed everything for my family. The one I had already mentally spent the salary from. The one that felt like “stability,” “legitimacy,” “finally hitting my goals,” all wrapped in one.
And the reason they dropped me?
Early-term labor.
We don’t even need to unpack how fucked up that is. But also… yes, we do. Because that moment — the intersection of motherhood, work, and the absolute violence of being seen as “inconvenient” — is one working moms know too well.
I read that email while literally bleeding out. And I felt like the universe was kicking me while I was down.
But what hurt the most wasn’t the lost job.
It was what it meant about my identity.
I had spent years crafting this version of Jane:
✔️ one kid
✔️ Director by 35
✔️ homeowner
✔️ stable, linear, corporate trajectory
Instead, there I was:
– pregnant with my second
– bleeding to death
– being rejected for a Director position
– renting
– and feeling like a failure on every damn front
Nothing — and I mean NOTHING — was happening on the timeline I’d been clinging to.
And then… the shift.
I looked out the hospital window and saw a tiny red cardinal hopping around on the adjacent roof.
A pop of red.
A flash of calm.
A divine tap on the shoulder.
Something inside me cracked open. Not broken — just opened.
And for the first time, I felt it.
Maybe this wasn’t punishment.
Or maybe this was the pivot I really badly needed.
Maybe life was rerouting me on purpose.
Maybe it wasn’t failure — maybe it was freedom.
Freedom from timelines. And from identities that were quietly expiring. Freedom from the belief that money only counts if you suffer as fuck for it.
That season became the end of “Director-by-35 Jane”…and the beginning of This Jane:
✨ a life full of whimsy
✨ deep laughter
✨ big hugs from both my boys
✨ random Wednesday date nights with Husky
✨ and never again believing I have to earn more by suffering more
It was the breakup with my old identity — and thank GOD it happened.
Why That Job Didn’t Work Out (And Why That Career Pivot Matters for You)
Here’s the truth I couldn’t see then: That Director job I wanted so badly?
It was never going to match the life I have today.
Not the flexibility.
Or the joy.
Not the way my kids know my scent better than my Slack status.
Or the freedom to build a business rooted in the very women I care most deeply about.
God knew it.
The universe knew it.
The cardinal knew it.
I just hadn’t caught up yet.
But here’s where this becomes about you…Most women don’t realize they’re grieving an old identity —
or clinging to one they’ve outgrown.
Maybe your version was:
“I should be further along by now.”
“Why haven’t I been promoted already?”
“I should be able to handle this.”
“I should want the job everyone else thinks is impressive.”
Sound familiar?
Losing that role made me realize something that changed my entire life:
I didn’t need the title.
I needed a life that paid me well enough to breathe.
And THAT is the moment my definition of success shifted and allowed me to make a career pivot.
Not “Director by 35.” Or a “perfect timeline.” Not suffering-for-stability.
Success became:
– breathing room
– options
– margin
– choices
– aligned work
– money that supports your life (not consumes it)
And that brings us to the thing I want you to take away from ALL OF THIS.
Redefining A Career Pivot Means Letting Go of What No Longer Fits
Success isn’t a title.
It isn’t a timeline.
It isn’t proving yourself through exhaustion.
Success is having a life you don’t need to numb away.
It’s being paid enough to exhale.
Success is having margin — emotional, mental, financial.
And success is understanding that sometimes the thing you didn’t get…
the thing that slipped away…
the thing that rejected you…
…wasn’t meant to carry you into the season you’re stepping into next.
Sometimes life is clearing the damn path.
WHAT THIS MEANS FOR YOUR CAREER PIVOT (THE PART YOU CAN ACTUALLY USE TODAY)
Getting paid well is about so much more than money — especially for women who are juggling careers, caregiving, healing, ambition, and identities that have evolved faster than our job titles.
Being underpaid feels like:
• background anxiety you’ve normalized
• mental math at Target
• shrinking dreams
• “I’ll just make it work” fatigue
• staying in roles that drain you because you feel stuck
But when you’re paid what you deserve?
Everything shifts.
Your shoulders drop. Your body unclenches.
Your brain stops bracing for the next crisis. You make decisions from stability, not survival.
You stop settling. You start choosing.
Fair pay gives you something priceless: OPTIONS.
Options to leave.
Options to pivot.
Options to rest.
Options to rebuild.
Options to take a chance.
Options to say yes for the right reasons.
And here’s the part nobody tells you….
Sometimes, that job you didn’t get was protecting your future self. Sometimes the rejection was redirection. Sometimes the closed door was the only way you’d walk toward the one designed for you.
HOW TO BEGIN YOUR OWN REDEFINITION OF SUCCESS: 3 PRACTICAL STEPS
Because I know you — you don’t just want inspiration.
You want action.
Here’s where to start:
1. Identify the identity you’re clinging to.
Ask yourself:
– “What version of me am I still trying to live up to?”
– “Whose expectations am I carrying?”
– “What timelines no longer fit the life I actually want?”
Write them. Name them. See them.
2. Rewrite your definition of success based on your real life — not the one you imagined at 22.
Try: “Success is a career that fits this version of me — the one with lived experience, kids, bills, healing, ambition, boundaries, and a real human body.”
3. Audit your job through the lens of margin, not prestige.
Margin questions:
– Am I being paid enough to breathe?
– Do I have emotional margin?
– Do I have time margin?
– Does this job support or suffocate the version I’m becoming?
Margin > medals. Every single time.
Ready to Let Go of the Old Identity?
If this stirred something in you for a career pivot — if you’re realizing your old definition of success has expired — this is your sign to release it.
Your next season deserves a woman who knows her worth and gets paid like it.
My coaching calendar for December is officially open.
Explore the ways we can work together:
👉🏾 Work With Me — Coaching + Intensives + Resources
Not ready for coaching? You can start with the deeper dive here, with the Career Blueprint.
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