An unplanned pregnancy rocked my Ph.D. My academic village helped me make it through

From ScienceMag:

I was in my first year of grad school, preparing to present my research plans to my thesis committee and department for approval. I kept brushing away the feelings of sickness. I could not afford to be sick with an 18-month-old to take care of and my presentation looming. But after a few days, at the encouragement of my supervisor, I went to the student clinic—only to be told I was pregnant. It felt as though the floor had been pulled out from under my feet. I had fought to carve out a space for myself in science as a hard-working Black mom. An unplanned pregnancy seemed like certain professional doom.

Juggling parenthood and my studies was already challenging, but I was determined to follow my dream. I had gotten married and had my first child while pursuing the second bachelor’s degree I needed after having finally found my professional direction. In 2020, I was ready to apply for grad school—not an easy feat during a global pandemic, let alone as a parent. For one virtual interview, I was not able to secure child care. The professor—who would go on to become my Ph.D. supervisor—graciously allowed the interview to continue with an infant bouncing in my arms. But I knew then and there that to succeed in graduate school, I should wait before having more children. Once I entered graduate school, I had no doubt about that choice. I quickly realized I would have to commit to my work as never before to succeed as I hoped, flawlessly checking every academic box.

After going to the clinic, I didn’t return to the lab. Instead I went home, quietly panicking. Two days later, my supervisor called to check on me, having noticed my absence. I told her everything. She listened kindly and offered me a key piece of advice: Don’t panic. I realized she was right, and instead of retreating from others and spiraling into silence, what I really needed was community.

I called my best friend, mom of two teenage boys, to cry and vent. I barely knew how to process everything I was feeling—shame, fear, grief, frustration about being pregnant in a foreign land far from my family—but naming those feelings helped. Over the following weeks, I began to understand that surviving graduate school as a pregnant student would take a village, made up not of blood relatives, but of fellow graduate student parents. They helped babysit my toddler when my husband was away so I could battle morning sickness or take a nap. We drafted schedules to coordinate day care pickup and babysitting when one of us had a long experiment, a conference to attend, or an emergency. Sometimes we just met up to talk about life and the challenges and joys of being parents in graduate school.

It wasn’t all rosy. I often had to call my supervisor for help to complete experiments because pregnancy symptoms left me too dizzy. I missed deadlines because of intense nausea and conferences because of anemia and low blood pressure. Peers questioned my commitment, whispering comments when I had to leave early for appointments or showed signs of morning sickness. One attributed my few successes during that period solely to my supervisor, making me feel inadequate as a student and scientist. Still, the steadfast support of my village and my supervisor, and my own determination to achieve my professional goals, saw me through. I persisted, at home and in the lab, and my definition of success expanded to include resilience.

My younger child is now almost 3 years old, and I expect to graduate next year. I now know that my unexpected pregnancy didn’t make me less of a scientist. Redefining what success means to me was liberating, allowing me to become a scholar shaped by motherhood rather than diminished by it. Now, I pride myself not just on academic and research successes, but also on celebrating my kids’ milestones, showing up for playdates, being present for tantrums and bedtime stories. I am grateful to my supervisor, who reminded me, “You belong here. Even like this. Especially like this.”

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