Claire Hoban: I’m a young, ambitious woman but now I’m choosing motherhood over my career

With her research career on hold, PhD graduate Claire Hoban has embraced life as a stay-at-home mother. She just wishes modern society would do the same. Here, she shares her story.

Claire Hoban says being a stay at home mum is like having “a tiny human with no filter who often delivers feedback as subtle as a sledgehammer” as your boss.

Before becoming a mum in 2015, I was results-oriented, focused and burnt the candle at both ends – and in the middle too, sometimes. I did my best to tick off the conventional checklist: travel, degree, marriage, house, work… and anticipated continuing the trajectory at freight-train intensity.

Next on the list? Children.

Now that I had qualifications and worked hard to establish a career – how would we balance everything? We really wanted to start a family, yet didn’t want to ignore the hard work I’d put into building a career.

I felt I owed to any future children to be the kind of mum that had doted on me, but how to leave my work behind?

Knowing that experience is a great teacher, I spoke to those who had some.

I was working on my PhD and my honours research co-ordinator told me that was the best time to have a baby.

At first, this sounded like a marketing scheme to retain honours students, but as I dug a little deeper, I saw that many other academics I respected had done this.

When our first son, Henry, was born, I wanted nothing more than to marvel at this little wonder all day long.

I found that becoming a mum triggered something instinctual and primal catalysing a deeply biological pull to be with my child 24/7.

A midwife friend of mine recommended I read Jean Leidoff’s The Continuum Concept.

It essentially points out that while modern societal constructs have evolved, the innate need of an infant has not, and that there are certain expectations that must be met if a child is to develop optimally.

The essence of our biology requires security, love, nurturing – the same as it always has.

It is what comes naturally when you ignore all the noise, podcasts, Google, old wives’ tales and just listen to your baby.

It’s pure instinct.

There is a disparity between what a baby needs and what modern life expects, and while it is possible to bridge the gap, it is definitely peppered with sacrifice.

Yes, some mornings it would be nice to dress in dry-clean only and drink hot coffee (rather than wear cold coffee), but it’s about priorities, values and timing.

Claire Hoban with her husband Luke and children Henry and Charlotte. Picture: Supplied

The first 1000 days (from conception to age two) are a critically important time in the development of a baby’s brain, and largely influenced by a secure and loving relationship.

We made a decision to keep the babies with me until at least that time. Just two years per kid out of my working life to set the foundation for theirs. We were fortunate enough to be in a position to take this opportunity, and I understand financial necessity can eliminate certain care choices.

Since the government first subsidised childcare in 1972, we have seen a rise in care options: childcare centres, nannies, parents and family members as carers.

The Child Care in Australia Report shows 1,383,550 children from 1,000,760 families attended a Child Care Subsidy-approved child care centre in the June quarter 2021.

Knowing that job strain can cause significant parental stress and put pressure on the family schedule when both parents are working full-time, I found it alarming that the Australian Bureau of Statistics reports that nearly a quarter (24.4 per cent) of couple families with children aged 0-4 years have both parents working full-time. After trawling through posts and comments on Facebook groups I read story after story of mums (not just the babies!) struggling with separation anxiety, perpetual illness, a multitude of tough situations, childcare workers who wouldn’t send their little ones to childcare, and how they’ve had to lie to parents about all the firsts they missed.

The recently announced initiative in NSW and Victoria to introduce another year of schooling for preschoolers suggests that children are better off in the care of others and devalues the work of a stay-at-home-mums (SAHM).

Motherhood is a complex beast and can erode self-esteem and confidence. Think about it: your boss is a tiny human with no filter who often delivers feedback as subtle as a sledgehammer. Put that on repeat and if you’re having a rough week, you might start questioning your own abilities. Messaging should be around empowering mothers, because sometimes it doesn’t take much to convince them that their children could be better off without them. So why would I sign myself up for this “indulgence”? The pay is non-existent, the hours are endless and the bonus structure isn’t fiscal, but it is priceless.

Claire Hoban at uni with the kids. Picture: Supplied

Claire Hoban with Sophie, 2, Ted, 7 months, Henry, 6, and Charlotte, 5. Picture: Supplied

My children love life. Loudly.

They are so excitable you cannot help but be drawn in. It is intoxicating to watch their little hands attempting to muffle an up-to-no-good chuckle as their honesty gives away their diabolical plans. Seeing their delight in my feigned surprise when they almost seamlessly execute a “prank”; the wish-making as they extinguish birthday cake candles; magical Christmas mornings; Easter egg hunts; spontaneous affection and the sheer validation in soothing their woes like nobody else could, providing that soft landing. That’s the employment package of my dreams..

It’s all worth it to see them waving a determined finger in the air as they announce grand schemes and expeditions in pursuit of treats and dollar bucks, their little gang creating fantastic games.

Oh how I wish to see those dreams that make them laugh in their sleep, and be privy to the string of thoughts that lead to the plans and schemes. To see an idea creep into their mind before it shows up on their face, brimming with a smile. Other than the visceral desire to continue the species, the pros far outweigh the cons, despite the blow to physical and financial health. There’s an intense kaleidoscope of emotion that can’t otherwise be appreciated – love, joy, grief. You know you’re alive.

Of course this can happen even if you aren’t with your child all day, every day, but I love witnessing as many of the little moments that shape the bigger picture as possible – and I am fortunate to be able to do so.

We chose to have children, and we choose to raise them at home. Yes, options exist in our society to outsource this role. Society may have changed to get mums back into a 9-5, but our babies’ hearts don’t know that and certainly haven’t adapted.

Claire Hoban with Charlotte, Ted, Henry and Sophie. Picture: Supplied

On mothers returning to the workforce to find a sense of self; that’s the old self. Why not explore the new self? I see my sense of self reflected back in four tiny mirrors. People lose themselves all the time. In work, in a lover, in a vice. I can think of no better place to be lost than in their world, and you never know what version of yourself you may find on the other side. Every role has its challenges, but that’s where you grow. Like any role I find I am better at it as I gain experience. I have nutted out my best hacks, my kids’ favourite snacks, invitations to play, how to spend a rainy day, developed my storybook voices, shaped their behavioural choices, wildly imaginative play skills, can negotiate strong wills, I’ve got kits for every situation and can pack a beach/hike bag and be out the door like a ninja, and can do most things one handed. That’s SAHM life.

New job titles

I’m the department of planning who approves submissions for fort after fort, and rubber roads through magnetic tile villages.

I’m the Chief of Science and Innovation who grants funding for cutting edge research into the viability of transplanting noxious plant species, research into alternative energy resources assessments such as citric acid and baking soda, and exploratory surgical techniques for those suffering abdominal polyester deflation syndrome.

No reported cure to this day.

I’m the ambassador for the arts who hosts festivals of paint, pipe cleaners and pompoms, and yes, theatrical productions of the escapades of small blue heelers and ice queens. And lastly, I am also waste management. Department of Correctional Services. Communications adviser to both sides of the government. Minister for agriculture and fisheries (including extraction of foreign objects from the aquatic habitation in the playroom).

I remind myself, it’s two years per kid, more if I’m lucky. It’s not forever, sadly. There’ll come a bittersweet time when they won’t need me so much, and although that’ll be evidence of a job well done, I can’t help but dread the grief.

I can’t imagine a day without seeing them, or hearing their voices. Or seeing a hallway free from a selection of toys. Missing the mandarin peel that hasn’t quite made its final destination and is left alongside the bin. I may even miss Weet-Bix stuck to the table, or a battalion of bath toys lined up for battle across the bathroom floor. A tiny sock left in the dryer. The smell of baby wipes. Handprints on the windows. A rusk at the bottom of my handbag. Wrappers from a party bag shoved hastily down the side of the lounge. All the tells that someone very special has been here.

In the meantime, I’ll kiss each bump, wipe each tear, share the joy in their discoveries, watch the penny drop when they grasp a new concept, teach the values that will keep our family members on the same page in years to come, instil curiosity, enjoy afternoons just playing as sunlight streams through the playroom window casting long shadows on long days.

I’ll set up the mad scientist experiments and immersive sensory play (which often takes longer to clean up than set up). I’ll spend days finding the best shells at the beach, or the most colourful leaf on a walk, or the most fascinating rocks on the farm. I’ll nurse the baby and hear raucous, wicked laughter and I’ll know the others are up to mischief, but building strong bonds and memories together – the kind of things that are joked about in your 20s.

I try not to mind too much what mess they might have made. I’ll embrace the mundane and find comfort in the repetition, knowing it is finite.

This is the personal view of the author, Claire Bolt Hoban, as told to The Advertiser’s Jessica Galletly.