by Emma Elgar

Over the years, I have learned that resilience is rarely loud. More often, it is found in the quiet decisions we make every day: to keep going, to keep showing up, and to keep believing there is value in fighting for change even when the path feels exhausting.

For much of my adult life, I built my career at sea in the Royal Fleet Auxiliary (RFA), eventually becoming the most senior female officer with children in the organisation. It was a career I loved deeply. It challenged me, shaped me, and gave me opportunities I will always be grateful for. But it also taught me difficult lessons about balance, identity, and the reality many women still face when trying to combine motherhood with ambition.

When I became pregnant with my first son, I quickly realised that becoming a mother changed not only my personal life but also how I was viewed professionally. Policies that appeared straightforward on paper often became far more complicated in practice. Instead of support, I found myself fighting for opportunities, for flexibility, and at times simply for understanding.

There were moments where the pressure felt overwhelming. During pregnancy, after childbirth, and later following the devastating experience of miscarriage, I often found myself trying to navigate grief, recovery, and motherhood while simultaneously proving my professional worth. Like many women, I became very good at carrying on. I learned how to compartmentalise, how to perform under pressure, and how to continue delivering even when emotionally exhausted. But resilience should not mean enduring everything in silence.

One of the greatest lessons I have learned is that asking for support is not weakness. In truth, some of the strongest moments in my life came when I accepted that I could not do everything alone. My husband stood beside me through every challenge, sharing the responsibility of parenting and supporting me when I doubted myself. My parents became an essential part of our family support network, enabling me to continue pursuing my career. Alongside my family there was also a wider tribe of colleagues, friends, mentors, and advocates who reminded me that change is possible when people stand together.

There is often an expectation that women should simply “make it work.” That we should absorb the emotional load, adapt continuously, and quietly accept systems that were not designed with us in mind. Yet the reality is that many women are carrying invisible struggles while still striving to succeed professionally. Some are balancing careers with motherhood. Others are navigating fertility journeys, loss, caring responsibilities, or the difficult decision not to have children at all. Every path comes with its own pressures and judgments. What matters is that women are given the space to define success for themselves.

For me, one of the most difficult decisions of my life was resigning from the career I had worked so hard to build. It was not a lack of passion or commitment that led me there. It was the realisation that without meaningful flexibility and support, I could no longer sustain both my family life and my wellbeing in the way I needed to. Walking away felt devastating at the time, but it also forced me to rediscover something important: my identity was not limited to one role, one title, or one organisation.

Sometimes empowerment is not about enduring indefinitely. Sometimes it is about recognising your worth enough to choose a different path.

Since leaving, I have continued to advocate for better support, more inclusive workplaces, and greater understanding of the realities faced by working parents and women in demanding careers. Not because I want sympathy, but because I do not want others to feel as isolated as I once did. I want younger women entering the workplace to know that having ambition and wanting a family are not mutually exclusive. I want women already struggling to know they are not failing because they find it hard, and I want organisations to recognise that retaining talented people requires more than policies alone; it requires empathy, consistency, and genuine cultural change.

To women at the beginning of their careers: do not shrink your ambitions out of fear for the future. You should not have to choose between professional success and personal fulfilment. Seek out mentors, build supportive networks, and remember that your voice matters even when you feel outnumbered.

To women returning to work after having children: give yourself grace. Your skills, leadership, and value have not diminished. If anything, the resilience, adaptability, and emotional intelligence developed through motherhood often make women stronger leaders.

To anyone quietly struggling behind the scenes, whatever your circumstances may be, your wellbeing matters. Success should never come at the complete expense of your health, identity, or happiness.

My story is one of challenge, loss, determination, and ultimately hope. If there is one thing I hope people take away from it, it is that:

“Progress happens because ordinary people decide that difficult conversations are worth having. Every time someone speaks up, supports another person, or challenges unfairness, they create space for change.”

We do not need to be fearless to make a difference. We simply need the courage to keep moving forward.

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