Diary of a Pregnant Founder

Diary of a Pregnant Founder

Embracing the messy reality of being a working mother, recognizing that you don't have to do everything alone, and finding the unexpected silver lining in being forced to step back.

When I pictured late-stage pregnancy, I pictured prenatal yoga. Gentle bounces on an exercise ball. A nourishing açaí bowl. Podcasts about labour hosted by witchy women who give birth at home in a candlelit pool and tell me, in a voice like warm honey, that my body knows exactly what to do.

What I did not picture is packing seven meetings into a single day to make up for lost time, inhaling gobs of dates washed down with raspberry tea, and panic-emailing my team at 2 a.m. to add them to meeting invites because I've convinced myself I might be going into labour.

I had planned for my last two weeks to be the first version. They turned out to be the second.

And that's okay.

Because it showed me something the podcast never could. I have an amazing, strong team. I have loyal clients who are genuinely just happy for me and know we won't miss a beat while I'm gone. That is more comfort to me, as a founder about to give birth, than any witchy woman telling me I can do this. I already know I can do “this”. But can I do “this” plus everything else at the same time, without dropping a ball?

This is the life a lot of us live. We're working mothers by choice, by necessity, by whatever reason, and I won't pretend it's easy, because it isn't. Almost 80% of mothers in Canada work, so I know for a fact I'm not alone. We just have to do it.

It's different for the men now too. They're expected to share the load at home while their wives work. My husband is the one who stays home when our son is sick. He's also the only one of us getting six weeks of paid paternity leave, and when he told his company he was taking it, someone said, "We've never had a father take paternity leave before. We don't really know how to do this." His reply: "Do you know who my wife is? One of us has to."

I spent my first pregnancy on a pipeline in Northern BC, and I mostly covered it up. A few people knew, but most didn't until I got big enough that hiding it stopped being an option. I finally knew it was time to come off site at almost nine months, when every single guy who saw me had the same joke. "If you don't get outta here soon, I'm gonna have to deliver that baby." Or they'd refuse to let me walk to certain areas. Eventually I felt more like a liability than a help. But I was blown away by how supportive everyone was. I constantly underestimate people's reactions.

This pregnancy, I was about ten months into our software build when I found out. I figured it'd be no problem. Easier, even, because I'd be home this time.

I was wrong about the easier part.

Because 2026 was the year I decided to speak everywhere and anywhere I could. Ontario, BC, all over Alberta. If someone tossed me a mic, I was there. Pitching investors, getting our product in front of people, and humbling myself completely, all day, every day. When you're in the public eye like that, not looking or feeling your best isn't a reason to not put yourself out there. You set it aside and do it anyways.

When I first told my dad I was pregnant, he had one piece of advice. "Well, you'll have to stop taking meetings the bigger you get. It's hard to sell to men when you're pregnant." He's a sales guy who’s been teaching me the tricks of the trade, he's also old school. Knock on doors, cold call, did not take paternity leave or stay home with sick kids type of guy. I did not heed his advice.

And after another nine months of marketing myself and our product, it started to work. People began asking me to speak, to join, to partner. Which is exactly what you want, except I had a very hard, very non-negotiable deadline coming, so I had to start saying no. Saying no is nearly impossible when you're a startup that needs money. It felt like turning down oxygen.

But I've started to see my forced break as the best thing that could've happened. It made me build my team early and build it strong. It made me create the systems and procedures to replace myself. Instead of go, go, go, I finally had to sit down and write our five-year plan, our development roadmap, our sales process, every single procedure for the consulting side of the business. It was an enormous amount of work, and I almost certainly wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been forced to. But now I get to step away knowing that what we hope will happen actually can happen, with or without me in the room.

And that advice my dad gave me, about it being hard to sell to men while pregnant? Turns out he was wrong. Even though I sell mostly to men, not one of them cared. They told me about their own wives' pregnancies. They pulled out photos of their kids. Not a single one asked the question I'd been dreading. Who's going to handle all this while you have your baby? No one ever said it. The thing I feared most simply never came.

So while my pregnancy doesn't look conventional at all, and to an outsider it might even look incredibly stressful, it's what I and many other Canadian mothers out there have to do in today’s day and age. So make the best of it, eat the dates, get the company in order while you bounce on a exercise ball, find the silver lining and get ready for your little bundle of joy!