‘Dr Mummy Work’
PhD Study with a toddler - a narrative
“I wuv you, Mummy, you’re my favourite girl.” Cue: heart breaking. How can I leave!?”
“[He] kicked me in the face whilst I tried to moisturise his skin… Changed my mind. When’s the earliest flight?”
Hi everyone, it’s me!
Today’s post is the most personal I’ve written so far. And although it is still early days in my overall PhD journey (I’m in my first year), this is one I’ve been considering writing for a while.
A note on content
I recognise that every journey is unique, and every experience different. Many parents will make the same decision as me every day. Many, a different one. What I write could just as easily apply to fathers, siblings, guardians/carers, and many personal circumstances.
It is not my intention to be triggering or insensitive to any circumstances. As much as I would love you to, please consider the content before continuing.
Synopsis
I am just a week away from my first field season in Trinidad, and my role as ‘Mum’, is appearing in stark contrast to my role as ‘Researcher’.
What is it like being a studying Mother?
A Mother, studying?
Part 1: Sorry? A social life? What is that?
Journal entry 20/03/2026*
“It can get lonely… I am distanced from many aspects of the student experience. The evening socials, the ‘in’ jokes on the chat.
Social event pops up… [I’m sitting] alone at lunch so I can leave early enough for nursery pick up. “Hey, I really wish I could come to this but timing doesn’t work for me”.
Social event pops up. The chat grows excited, relationships thrive. “Ahhh. This sounds amazing, wish I could join!””
29/09/2025
“I’ve joined WhatsApp** groups, I’ve met lots of people, but as messages for socials ping, and I realise I can’t attend because I have to – and want to - be home to tuck my baby into bed… I’m finding it hard to feel where I fit in.”
I must stress, in no way do I intend to make anyone feel bad for enjoying this amazing experience.
My idea of a good time is apparently crawling through mud under barbed wire, fighting the SkiERG, and shouting “SPRINT” at my group cycle attendees. Would I go to every event? No. Feel like I’m being intentionally left out? Of course not.
When I mentioned to cohorts I was writing this, I received the utmost support (“Feel free…to give any suggestions…for how we could better accommodate”).
What being a mother to a young child brings, however, is a constraint on freedom that is easy to take for granted.
It’s loneliness that comes with turning down opportunities. It’s missed seminars, events, networking… all these ‘optional’ things which expand, shape, and enrich the PhD journey.
It’s also hard to come across as anything other than a ‘mother’ at times. I fear I sound dull as dishwater when I consistently bring up ‘Mum-Duty’.
My son has shown me what true, unconditional love is (sorry husband). I wouldn’t change my situation. But I would love more from my PhD experience than calling myself Doctor, and occasionally that feels difficult.
Part 2: I don’t Have TIME!
11/03/2026
“My to-do list goes around in my head. I’m working from home, miss[ing] another department seminar…
Phone rings at 9am. My heart sinks as I see ‘nursery’ on the Caller ID. Simultaneously I think; “My poor baby”. And, “There goes my day”.”
29/09/2025
“I believe nothing should prevent me achieving my dreams... But, on day 2(!), I can already see how difficult this is going to be.
Today, I left an (albeit optional) seminar… to pick Bean up… I left in good time. Just to end up coming to a complete standstill.
As the clock ticked, I got more stressed… I dove headfirst into that hole. “This was a silly idea”. “It’s never going to work”. “I’m never getting my PhD”.”
Source: FreePik
I like to think I’m a great student, and employee. I hit deadlines. I take appropriate lunch breaks. I’m committed. Reliable.
I am however roughly 80 parts anxiety. If I can’t devote the exact time I’ve set aside for my task, this is an issue.
My son is 3. He goes to nursery. We have a roughly bi-weekly rotation of illnesses. “Fever? He can’t come back for 48 hours.” “Erm, but I have to work?”.
This job comes with a certain amount of flexibility, which I am beyond grateful for. But studying for a PhD is often all-consuming. How can I expect to write a thesis I am proud of, when one day I might only manage to work for 4 hours? (Funders? I mean 8 hours!).
I worry that progress on my research, becoming the expert that I am soon supposed to be, is massively constrained by the amount of time I do not have to devote to it.
Part 3: Mum Guilt
24/02/2026
AM: “Field Season is getting closer. This moment seemed so far out of sight when applying.
Bean is being clingy but so loving at the moment! (“I wuv you, Mummy. You’re my favourite girl”). Cue: heart breaking. How can I leave!?
Each trip is necessary: to get the PhD, career and livelihood I’m dreaming of, and offer Bean everything every parent longs to give their child. But in these moments, it’s incredibly hard.
PM: Bean kicked me in the face whilst I tried to moisturise his skin… Changed my mind. When’s the earliest flight?”
Source: Magnific
Many situations are a struggle with ‘Mum Guilt’. First time at nursery (“he’s never been without me!”), first evening out (“he needs me, how can I just go for dinner?”). Often, it’s easy to make a joke of. But as my son gets older, beginning to understand the world, the questions come directly from him. When will I be home from ‘Dr Mummy work’? Who’s collecting him? (“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’ll be on campus, but I’ll see you at dinnertime?”). Seeing his crestfallen little face makes me want to move mountains – or rather continents – so I don’t have to go away.
Whilst no one has said (to my face) they can’t believe I would go away, occasionally I see it on their faces. (“Wow, Trinidad! That’s incredible! How long for?” “Four to six weeks”). The way a smile wavers ever so slightly.
Even with the utmost outward support, my conscience screams every time I mention leaving. I’m not experiencing something unique, of course. But that doesn’t diminish my maternal fears– that I will be oceans away from my child.
He has a doting father, adoring grandparents, a roof over his head, friends and teachers to fill his days with joy. He will be okay.
But his Mum will not be there.
Though we should never have to deny our ambitions by becoming parents, every single day I must remind myself what I’m working towards. My own aspirations have a grander meaning, now I have him.
Epilogue
Is there an overarching takeaway here? I guess, no?
PhD-ing with a toddler isn’t easy. I’m often overwhelmed, absolutely shattered, lonely and emotionally drained. But there are definite positives, particularly the flexibility.
Despite the hardships, apparent constraints on research progress, and Mum guilt, when I picture graduation day, my son watching his Mum walk across the stage, officially ‘Dr Mummy’ … it’s all worth it.
*Journal entries are taken from my research journal. Some parts have been rewritten for clarity and shortened for space.
**Real messages received in multiple groups. Initials have been changed and randomised.
