When my child started primary school, I thought life would get a little easier. He’d become more independent, and I could finally shift more focus to my career.

But the truth?

The challenges of parenting didn’t disappear — they just changed shape.

As a working mother in an intercultural marriage, raising a child far from my home country, every day is a balancing act — trying to be present for my child without losing myself in the process.

Caught Between Roles: The Invisible Tug-of-War

Every morning starts the same. I’m making breakfast with one hand, responding to work emails with the other. Once my son heads off to school, I hop in the car and drive across town for work — mind racing with everything I might’ve forgotten: his water bottle, his gym kit, the upcoming class trip.

The road blurs past the windshield, but in my head, I keep hearing the same questions on repeat:

“Am I spending enough time with him?”

“Am I doing this right?”

My partner is dedicated to his career — focused and responsible. But when it comes to emotional connection or shared parenting, it’s like speaking into a void.

We don’t really talk.

I’ve tried — gently, directly, tearfully — but all I meet is silence, indifference, or deflection.

Eventually, I stopped trying. I swallowed my emotions and carried on.

Wanting to Be There — But Fearing Self-Loss

People might say I’m doing okay: a working mom with a steady job, a well-adjusted kid, a home that runs more or less smoothly.

But I know the longing beneath the surface. I crave more time with my son — to help him finish his math homework, listen to his carefully practiced German phrases, or just sit beside him reading a picture book after dinner.

And yet… I’m scared.

Scared that if I dive fully back into the role of “just Mom,” I’ll lose myself again.

I’ve been there before — disappearing into diapers and school forms and lonely playgrounds, wondering if I mattered beyond that.

Living outside my own cultural context makes that fear sharper, deeper.

Here, I lack the familiar affirmations, the shared understanding of what motherhood “should” look like. I’m constantly redefining success on my own.

When Your Partner Can’t Be Your Support System

I’ve stopped hoping that my husband will “get it.”

I’ve let go of the idea that he’ll suddenly start asking how I’m feeling or offering to take over bath time so I can breathe.

Instead, I’ve begun building a support system for myself — one I can actually count on.

I found a small circle of other moms living abroad, who talk honestly about burnout and guilt — not just milestone charts and lunchbox ideas. I created a social identity beyond motherhood: through part-time work, writing, or simply being someone who still gets to create, contribute, and grow. And I’ve learned to say to myself: “Just because no one acknowledges your exhaustion doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.”

What Can a Distant, Busy Father Still Offer?

Even though communication is sparse between us, I still believe a father’s presence matters.

No, he’s not the one helping with homework or telling bedtime stories. But his attitude toward family — whether present or distant — still shapes our child’s understanding of connection.

So, I try to involve him in small, concrete ways:

Helping our child set weekly goals (even if he just checks in occasionally) Taking our son out for a couple of hours on weekends to give me breathing space Sharing photos or short updates about our son’s milestones — not to force closeness, but to keep the door open

I’ve stopped striving for “ideal co-parenting.” Instead, I focus on what’s realistically possible. Even a little bit of participation is better than none.

To You — the Expat Mom Who’s Holding It All

Redefine what it means to be a “good mom” — on your own terms. You can be kind and fierce. Tender and exhausted. You don’t need to match someone else’s checklist to know you’re doing enough. Claim a role in the world that validates you — outside of motherhood. Whether through part-time work, a creative pursuit, volunteering, or building community — find a role that reminds you you’re still growing. Let go of perfect. Let your emotions be seen. When you’re mothering alone in a quiet house with no cultural safety net, what you need isn’t to “toughen up.” You need space to feel, and the grace to keep going anyway.

In Closing

Here in this foreign land, we have no grandparents to help with pick-ups, no childhood friends to talk to at the school gate, no ready-made understanding of what we’re going through.

We carry motherhood, womanhood, partnership, and career — all in one.

And every morning as I drive to work, I ask myself: Is this worth it?

The answer isn’t always clear.

But one thing I’ve come to believe deeply is this:

You don’t have to prove your value by doing it all. The fact that you keep showing up, even when it’s hard — that alone is worthy of respect.

You’re not alone.

And your effort is a quiet, beautiful kind of strength.