My coaching career was now positioned solidly on the back-burner on a very low flame while motherhood was boiling over the rim of the pot. 

With three young children under the age of 4, my plate was full, but my life felt empty.  

Motherhood was supposed to have been the answer to all the niggling feelings of dissatisfaction and lack of fulfillment and instead proved to raise even more questions about my purpose in life. 

I was more than happy to escape my role as mother for one weekend.  My husband is a member of the group coaching group Vistage which hosts an annual retreat for its members and their spouses.

During this weekend, we sat together for hours at a time sharing personal and professional issues.  A facilitator guided the discussion and created a safe space in which virtual strangers engaged in extraordinary conversation.  In a matter of minutes, we were looking deep into ourselves and going places that the mothers at weekly coffee mornings simply did not, could not, would not go.

I had never seen so many grown men cry.  Don’t get me wrong.  This wasn’t some sort of chest-pounding, drum-beating male pride cult or a Burning Man experiment in community. The tears were a byproduct of open conversations between people who agreed to check pride and self consciousness at the door and be real with each other.

This executive support group became an invaluable service for professionals to work through life’s many challenges.  How fortunate for my husband and his colleagues to be a part of such a group.  How wonderful that Vistage extended its services to me, the caregiver of the household, once a year.  Once a year?  Hang on a minute! One weekend of introspection a year?  That simply will not do.  Who supports caregivers all year round?

Mothers give so easily with little to no thought because giving is expected.  As cooks, cleaners, social coordinators, disciplinarians, doctors and therapists, we are everything to our children, and rarely do we ask for any kind of support or help.  You’ll forgive me for suggesting, even, that mothers are not only unwilling to ask for help but that we are riddled with guilt for just about every part of our mothering career.

If we work for pay, we feel guilty for spreading ourselves too thin. We may rarely go out with friends for fear that our children are getting the short end of the stick.  If we’re with the kids full-time, we feel guilty that we don’t generate any income or that we don’t savor every minute at home when our children are melting down in the middle of the grocery store or if we just don’t feel like playing Princess one more time.

Most tragic, however, is that we feel guilty asking for help.  If we ask for help we are somehow admitting that we can’t do it all ourselves.  We must be weak, and weakness in our present day society is bad.  We don’t often even share our frustrations with each other.  What good comes of complaining, anyway?  It’s no wonder that so many of us are exhausted and maybe even a little sad.

It was then I experienced what we in the coaching world refer to as an “AHA Moment.”  The lightbulb burned so bright I was practically blinded by the clear and obvious message.  As soon as I returned from that weekend of exploration and discovery, I put the wheels in motion to bring the much needed support I discovered at Vistage to all the caregivers in my life-including myself.

After interviewing locals about their needs and wants and laying down the groundwork to start my own business, sixteen mothers met one Tuesday morning in January 2007 for the first MOMentum meeting in Vancouver. 

We sat around a conference table at an office donated by a local law firm, and there was an electricity in the room before any of us opened our mouths.  For many of us, this was the first time since having children that we had stolen three hours from our day to focus entirely on ourselves.

The hours flew by in an instant as we let down our walls and found our voices.  We didn’t solve the world’s problems or even solve our own, but we discovered the value in facilitated questions and conversation.  By the end of our session, we agreed that we would continue to meet on a monthly basis to recharge, to support, to acknowledge and to celebrate each other and ourselves.

What I learned was that I was not alone in my struggles with motherhood.  I also learned that there is a need for this kind of support for all mothers regardless of the ages of our children or stages in our careers.  And, I learned that when we get, we give.   The more whole we become, the better able we are to give back to our families and to our communities and the more permission we give ourselves to grow.

Initially, I started the group so that I could connect with other people in my area.  Word got out that there was something exciting going on at this new group called MOMentum, and other mothers contacted me about joining. 

A few more chapters launched, and I realized that MOMentum was now a proper business, but what did that mean for me?  Was I to leave my primary role of coach and facilitator to run a growing business?  Would this necessarily mean that there would be less of me for my husband and my children?

Next month, I’ll share with you how an experiment became a business and the balancing act I face now as a caregiver and an entrepreneur.