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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 Mariane Gardner to our pages. Click here if you’d like to donate to MothersEsquire.
“One L” by Scott Turow. I remember walking into Barnes and Noble and buying the book. I was accepted into law school, and an attorney at work recommended it. So, I bought it. After finishing the book, watching “Legally Blonde,” and practicing my Atticus Finch, I was ready for the Socratic method, the gunners, and all things law school. Little did I know, law school would be so much more.
About two days before my first law school exam, I felt sicker than I had ever felt. I wondered, “How am I supposed to make it through four years of this?” It was my first class and I felt like I didn’t belong. Everyone had an answer to the cold calls and seemed eager and excited for the next. Meanwhile, I thought my head would explode. I could barely understand the professor’s question, let alone formulate a response.
As an evening student, work filled up my day until about 4 p.m., when I would catch the train to law school. My train rides consisted of Quimbee and frantically outlining cases that I read at 2 a.m. I thought to myself, there isn’t enough time in the day.
After I finally made it out of my first law school exam, I still felt sick. A few days later, I felt even worse. “Maybe you’re pregnant?” a new friend at law school said to me. I’m not sure if my heart sank to my stomach or skipped a beat. See, my husband and I had been trying before I applied to school. But after my acceptance, our perspectives changed. I was a paralegal for almost 10 years, and I knew that the legal industry was not keen on minorities or women, let alone a minority mom.
Spoiler alert: I was pregnant.
After almost 10 months filled with sciatic pain and food aversions, and let’s not forget the constant commentary on my pregnancy coinciding with my first year of law school — “Not the best planning,” “You’re never going to make it,” or “I just don’t think you can do it.” I had my first child. My son was born three days after my oral arguments and weeks before finals my 1L year. About a year later, I had my daughter the day after my evidence exam. (Pick your poison, hearsay or newborn sleep deprivation).
It was hard.
I already felt like an imposter, but tack on waking up in a pool of drool in the middle of my torts book, the baby kicking in the middle of con law, or not fitting into any suits for a networking event. I felt like an imposter who stood out. I loved my bump, but I hated standing out. Days would come when I tried to mask my bump. Just so I could feel somewhat normal. Just so I didn’t look like I didn’t belong.
I had to make some tough decisions after having my children. Should I stay in school? Should I continue working? Maybe I can take some sort of leave? I loved my job, but I knew the cost of childcare. I wanted to graduate from law school, but there was no time to study with a newborn. I hit an all-time low when my imposter syndrome and mom guilt combined to create a new form of mental torture.
I sit here writing this as a newly barred, recently graduated law student, scratch that, ATTORNEY. I made it out. I made it out of law school with two toddlers. We couldn’t afford childcare, so between drafting agreements for my deals class or practicing arguments for my arbitration course, I taught my children the ABCs and their colors and shapes. I couldn’t have done it alone. My husband gave me the mental gas to fight through the imposter syndrome. My mom traveled to help me with childcare so I could work and go to school. I found mentorship in the legal industry with powerhouses of women ranging from judges to partners at firms and professors. I surrounded myself with people who understood my path because their path too was not traditional. These women and, a few men, recognized that being a mom isn’t a weakness, being a mom makes us fight.
Moms don’t waste time because there is no time to waste. Moms are masters of multitasking because our minds are accustomed to anticipating the future while simultaneously working through the present. Moms have navigated “getting to yes” because no one teaches negotiation like a toddler.
It was hard. But I made it. Thanks to the support of my family, mentorship with like-minded individuals, and that voice within that whispered, “just keep going.” Moms in law must fight daily, and although we might not win them all, we keep going. So, the next time your imposter syndrome knocks, or your mom guilt creeps in, fight it. Remember — Just Keep Going.
Mariane Gardner is a first-generation Egyptian from Assuit, Egypt, and the first lawyer in her family. Prior to attending law school, she worked as a paralegal for nearly ten years in Philadelphia. As an evening student, she was a staff editor for the Business Law Review and was involved in various organizations and pro-bono projects. She has worked with various New Jersey judges and interned with Pennsylvania’s Office of General Counsel. She is currently clerking in-house and will be clerking with the presiding judge of the Appellate Division of the Superior Court in New Jersey. Most importantly, she welcomed both of her children while in law school. Her son was born three days after oral arguments during her 1L year, and her daughter was born the day after her Evidence final. Amidst the busy days, she enjoys baking with her toddlers and traveling down the New Jersey shore with her family.
