Ed. note: This is the latest installment in a series of posts on motherhood in the legal profession, in partnership with our friends at MothersEsquire. Welcome Emma Smoler to our pages.
When I was younger and announced that I wanted to be a “lawyer and a mom,” conventional wisdom of the day offered this timeline: Go to college, get into law school, land a good job, save money, get married, have a kid. In that order. Obviously, nothing is guaranteed, least of all when it comes to having children. But, practically speaking, it makes sense to get the J.D. before the K.I.D. Or does it?
I had my daughter while I was in the thick of law school, which meant I was piling up a lot of debt, had no job to pay off that debt (save for a $10/hour research position), and my experience consisted of changing diapers and burping my new assistant. Somewhere between legal writing assignments and studying for Civil Procedure, I found myself in the labor and delivery unit at Prentice Hospital in Chicago, Illinois. I was the token pregnant law school student: I graduated on time, and I lived to tell about it.
“How irresponsible,” a person might say to a woman who makes this choice. Actually, some did. And yet, men routinely get praised for taking leaps of faith, investing in a future they can’t quite see yet, and having unshakeable confidence in their abilities. I had male classmates who were married, living on loans, with pregnant wives at home, and no one questioned their choices. I guess I did not see why I had to put off being a parent if I felt ready at that time. And so, I didn’t.
Looking back on those somewhat chaotic years, I sometimes wonder how I managed to stay sane and optimistic about my future until I realize that it was precisely because I was young, broke, and inexperienced, that I was open-minded enough to eschew the traditional career model and take a chance on the unknown. While this path may not be for everyone, I hope that, in sharing my experiences, I can contribute to a dialogue in which working parenthood is normalized, and we explore the many options that lead to a similar outcome.
Here is the good, the bad, and the ugly of what I call the “reverse course career plan.”
The Ugly
Setting aside the inherent ugliness of leaking through my shirt at the end of a three-hour exam, the ugliest part of having a baby in law school was the judgment I felt, whether it was actually happening, or a specter of my own insecurities. I will never forget the time I waddled into a classroom, hugely pregnant, and the male professor looked at me with confusion and asked, “What on earth are you doing here?” It may have been an innocent question, but it hurt, and in response, I showed him exactly what I was doing there. I got an A in his class. Also ugly were the nights at home when I fell asleep, face first into a law book, while the baby screamed, my husband stressed, and the diapers overflowed the waste bin. I have since learned that the first few months of new parenthood can be ugly, regardless of the circumstances. Thankfully, the adjustment period is temporary.
The Bad
The obvious reason for not having a child in law school is that unless you are independently wealthy, it is going to be financially difficult. Notice, I did not say impossible. When my daughter was an infant, the baby magazines/blogs made me feel inadequate because my shoestring budget prevented me from getting anything but the essentials (which is all babies need, really). I pined for those cute leather moccasins hawked by a Kardashian, a high-tech stroller, or a baby swing that wasn’t thrifted. I didn’t sign up for the organized play groups, and a lot of my daughter’s play time was spent rolling on the floor while I studied. But it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because I got to spend time with my daughter while at home studying; she survived and thrived, and we are both better for it today. My tight finances caused me to maintain a laser focus on the task(s) at hand, and the difficult times eventually gave way to easier routines.
The Good
I wish I could tie this up with a pretty bow and report that I effortlessly jumped back onto my desired career path. But that did not happen right away. Instead, I watched from the sidelines as my childfree peers advanced far past me, and deservedly so. I took a number of lower-paying, flex-time jobs. Looking back now, that flexibility allowed me to have precious time with my daughter, even though I wasn’t advancing on a traditional career ladder. I didn’t get back into my groove until my mid-thirties, when, coincidentally, many of my lawyer peers were just starting their journey into motherhood. I look at my friends’ baby photos and part of me wishes I were right there with them, but then again, I am enjoying my thirties with older kids, and that’s also fun. At the end of the day, no mom can be everything simultaneously, no matter how many magazines or blogs try to convince us otherwise. It is all a matter of perspective, and you gain a lot of that if you have a baby in law school.
So, here is my perspective today: I am the mother of a witty 11-year-old girl who helped me choose an outfit for my last job interview. She was in the car with me when I got the call, offering me the job. We screamed together. She understood exactly how important this goal was for me, because she was there every step of the way. As I watch her excel in school, advocate for her friends, stand up against bullies, and speak her mind in class, I would be honored to think that my example played a small part. I asked my daughter if it was okay to mention her in this article, and her only comment was, “Be sure to disclose that you technically had two brains when you took exams when you were pregnant.” For the record, it was a serious advantage.
Earlier: Mothers At Law: Achieving Meaningful Success In The Legal Profession
Emma Smoler is a trial attorney in Chicago, Illinois. She graduated from the John Marshall Law School in Chicago in 2009. Emma has served as lead counsel in dozens of jury trials, achieving millions of dollars in settlements and verdicts for her clients. During law school, while also mother of a young child, Emma interned at the Office of the Cook County Public Defender, in the felony trial division. Emma credits that experience with providing her the wherewithal to handle complex legal issues, patience in adversarial environments, and a deep compassion for her clients. When she is not in the courtroom, Emma enjoys long distance running, and bluegrass music.