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Motherland in Adland: Carol Dunn

Motherland in Adland Carol Dunn. PrAhi6Q - NERD Blog - Motherland in Adland: Carol Dunn

Is there any truth to “kids ruin everything”? Barking Owl’s managing director tackles the common proverb by comparing it to her own lived experience of motherhood.

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

This edition of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – sees Carol Dunn, managing director at Barking Owl, discuss the ins and outs of parenting as an ambitious woman in entertainment and advertising. From taking meetings with Wu Tang Clan, child in tow, to tag teaming parenting duties with a nanny and her mother-in-law, Carol looks back on what motherhood looked like for her over the course of her career in adland.

“Kids ruin everything!” I say it all the time, you can quote me… But that statement proves to be both true and false in the same breath, on different days, for different reasons. And here’s why…

I’ve worked in entertainment my entire career. Starting out as the switchboard operator at Capitol Records with a four year old at home and a sprog in my belly. When my kids were small, I had little to no guilt. As they grew older, they began to become vocal about their pride in watching me leave for the office, or even a business trip. The ‘adventure’ of doing their homework in my office was not an adventure at all but actually very normal.

I am lucky that I had a mother-in-law who tag teamed with a part-time nanny. This meant the kids had a home cooked meal every week day of their childhood — even if not a single one of those meals was cooked by me. Nor was I ever sitting at the family dinner table.

In spite of that, my kids, now 33 and 37, just this week told me they would both love to be “doing what [I] do”. Yes, I have tried to talk them out of it…

If I had any advice for new mothers it’s that it is normal to want to be at work and not at home sometimes. It is okay. I was back at work (due to terrible American maternity leave policies!*) three months after my second was born.

But, when all is said and done, I was thrilled to go back to work. I was lucky to be able to pump and provide breast milk to my daughter. Even she, at just nine months, was ready to spread her lactose wings and walk away from me – yup, she walked at nine months. Both of my kids did.

I was never afraid of my kids loving their grandmother or the nanny for that matter (which I find to be the oddest fear) more than me. I believe the thought and guilt a lot of mothers feel comes from outside chatter. External sources – family members, friends, IG ‘Trad Wife/Mom’ types – insisting that what they are doing is the right way to do it. But there isn’t a ‘right way’, there is just your way. No one can criticise you for doing it your way.

After all, where does most criticism blossom from? Jealousy and self doubt.

I am not going to say I had it all, nor that my work life balance was balanced. But while my career was my first choice my kids were my first loves. I truly have no guilt for the choices I made.

My daughter’s first trip to Manhattan was because I had meetings with Wu Tang. My son’s first dance floor experience with me was with Sia. The kids’ first concert was N’Sync at The Rose Bowl — we left after 4 songs, too loud!

Those experiences were available to us because of my access. My access was possible because of my work ethic. My work ethic was dogmatic because of my dedication to providing a full life for my children, with me.

Motherland in Adland Carol Dunn - NERD Blog - Motherland in Adland: Carol Dunn

*Shout out to Bulgaria and Sweden: Bulgaria offers 410 days (approximately 58.6 weeks) of paid maternity leave at 90% of the mother’s salary, starting 45 days before the due date; and Sweden provides 480 days of shared parental leave, with 390 days paid at 80% of wages.

This leave is designed to be shared between parents, with 90 days reserved specifically for fathers…

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Motherland in Adland: Charlotte Jimenez

Ourselves Charlotte Jimenez Motherland Adland.c7ML0m9Z - NERD Blog - Motherland in Adland: Charlotte Jimenez

As part of the series ‘Motherland in Adland’, the head of operations and senior producer describes how working with fellow parents at creative studio, Ourselves, restored her confidence after facing redundancy.

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this instalment of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – we hear from Charlotte Jimenez, head of operations and senior producer at creative studio, Ourselves.

Charlotte’s story is one many mothers can relate to. Her ‘work hard, play hard’ approach to work was not sustainable in quite the same way after having children. Especially when toddlers just love to collect illnesses at nursery and require last-minute early pick ups. Juggling responsibilities in the home and the office left her edged out of her own career, and eventually, she was made redundant. Thankfully, her journey also comes with a happy ending, and hope for parents that like-minded, empathetic, adaptable workplaces are out there.

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I’ve been working my dream job at Ourselves, a remote creative studio, for almost six years now. When Aaron and Steven, the founders, first called me, the timing couldn’t have been better. I was a new mum, still reeling from redundancy at the big agency where I’d spent most of my career, and in the middle of a real crisis of confidence. Their offer felt like I’d just been handed a golden ticket.

I’ve always been ambitious and full of energy. I love people, I love teamwork, and I come from the ‘work hard, play hard’ millennial era. (Thursday night drinks after work included.) But life looks a little different now. I’m a mum of two boys, and while I’m still passionate about my career in advertising, I want to do it in a way that works for my family too. That means working from home more than the office, being flexible and agile, making it to school events, taking the boys to their after-school clubs, and, most importantly, not being so stressed that I forget what (and who) really matters.

In the early years of project management, I worked my way up the ladder, got recognised for my hard work, had the chance to work abroad, and lead a team. Back then, the mums on my team were often labelled as ‘part-time’, despite being the first ones in the office and usually the last ones online – working longer and harder to make up for leaving early for school pick-ups.

Then I had a baby. What a shocker.

My firstborn was often unwell as a toddler, which meant the nursery would regularly call asking me to pick him up early. Those calls triggered frantic conversations with my husband as we both scrambled to negotiate with our bosses, promising to work late into the night to make up for leaving the office two hours early.

I constantly felt like I was letting my team down. Even when I was home with my son, I didn’t stop working. I managed projects from my phone, took calls while driving, and juggled spreadsheets with one hand while cuddling a poorly child with the other. Eventually, I was given smaller, less critical projects. I was left out of key conversations and pushed toward standalone jobs. Looking back, I realise this was my boss’s way of keeping me in a role without relying on me for anything crucial, so if I had to drop everything and run to nursery, I could. But I hated it. I felt sidelined, excluded, and my confidence took a huge hit. I wasn’t myself.

When covid hit and, subsequently, redundancies, there were no surprises. It was clear to me and to many of my friends who had started families that we were first in line. We had chosen motherhood, and in the eyes of leadership, that meant we couldn’t give the same blood, sweat, and tears as younger colleagues or those without children. That was it, confirmation that I was seen as the weakest link.

Birds of a Feather

Then came an unexpected lifeline. Aaron Howard, a creative director I’d worked with for over six years, called one afternoon while I was at home, juggling two young children and questioning my life choices. He and his co-founder, Steven Bennett-Day, were starting something new and needed a producer. Not only was I on Aaron’s list, I came highly recommended by peers and that was a huge lift for me.

As fathers themselves, Aaron and Steven had both left big ad-agency life to reclaim autonomy, choose projects they cared about and be able to enjoy family life. They offered me the chance to help run a startup and shape how it would operate: flexible hours, remote working, and a culture that genuinely understood what it meant to be a working parent as a positive, not a negative. It felt like a dream job.

Fast Forward 6 Years

Today, at Ourselves, we’ve built the kind of team we once dreamed about. When we advertised for an account director and senior copywriter, we weren’t just looking for skills and good people, we wanted colleagues who shared our values and working style.

Now, we’re a powerhouse of parents (and like-minded teammates) running the show. We get the work done, in the working hours that suit us. We support one another. We’re flexible, so both our creatives and our management team can do their best work. Some of us work abroad when needed, we’re able to swap working days or hours, and we pick up the slack for each other without resentment. There’s no ‘us versus them’ mentality – just trust, respect, and genuine smiles for our 9:30 status meetings!

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Motherland in Adland: Casey Bird

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In this instalment of the ‘Motherland in Adland’ series, the creative director explains how discovering AI during maternity leave unlocked a new creative freedom – and why mothers must play an active role in shaping the future of work

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this instalment of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – we hear from Casey Bird, a creative director who most recently worked at Channel 4.

During her second maternity leave, Casey didn’t just return to work – she rewired how she thought about creativity, career progression, and possibility. AI became her tool for liberation, reinvention, and self-determined ambition. Now, as she launches her own creative studio, she’s calling on mothers across adland to experiment, challenge norms, and help shape the next era of work – because if they don’t, the future risks being built without them.

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The AI Revolution is Here. Mothers Can’t Be on the Sidelines.

I’m not a technologist. I’m not a coder. I’m a mother of two (Hi Ruby & Mason, mama’s in LBB!).

I’m an award-winning creative director in advertising and marketing by trade, and someone who spent most of my career working global brands or brand partnerships, most recently Channel 4. But, during my second maternity leave in 2024, something happened: I became obsessed with AI. I became obsessed with the possibilities, the opportunities, the limitless ideas and thoughts. My brain literally exploded.

Not in a “sci-fi robots” kind of way, but because I saw how powerful it could be when applied to real life. I devoured hours of podcasts or YouTube vids on the topic. I started using it to brainstorm business ideas, draft pitches, shape creative concepts, things I had always relied on late nights or over-caffeinated mornings to do. Suddenly, instead of squeezing myself into a workplace model that was never designed for me, I could start designing my own.

That shift was life-changing for me. In 2025 I created the first advert for a brand on behalf of Channel 4 using creative imagination, prompt engineering and a lot of human editing. I could do this, because I felt confident with the tools I had been practising behind the curtains, that when the opportunity arose, I was able to raise my hand and stand out. It was so much fun feeling limitless in the execution and not restricted by a shoot.

Now? I’m currently in the process of taking a pause whilst I launch my own creative studio, one that works around my time, my energy, and my commitment to my family. And AI is at the heart of it, obviously. My imposter syndrome sometimes can tell me this is a bit of a gimmick, but I truly believe it’s going to the scaffolding that allows me to build a business on my own terms as a mother.

Here’s the thing I’ve been pondering, AI is being called the biggest shift since the internet. But if mothers aren’t part of this revolution, then once again the future of work will be built without us in mind. And we can’t afford that. Women constitute only 20% of employees in technical roles in major machine learning companies, 12% of AI researchers, and 6% of professional software developers. (UNESCO)

Because let’s be honest, the traditional workplace is already failing mothers. And if you’re reading this and nodding along, you’re not alone. Too many of us are pushed out, sidelined, or quietly exit because the system doesn’t bend and work with us and our commitments. AI could change that. It could be the tool that helps us re-enter, reinvent, or completely bypass the structures that excluded us in the first place.
So imagine if mothers everywhere used AI not just to lighten the admin load or think up dinner ideas for the week, but instead:

  • Prototype businesses faster: turning that “what if” idea into a plan overnight. With no-code website builds you can take your idea to MVP in a day. No dev dude to patronise you.
  • Access opportunities that don’t depend on presenteeism: pitching, networking, or upskilling on your own schedule. Getting LLM’s to challenge you, set goals and learning schedules. Research indicates that women adopt generative AI tools at work 25% less than men, potentially widening the gender gap in career opportunities. (AllBright)
  • Rewrite the CV narrative: using AI to frame maternity leave not as a “gap,” but as proof of leadership, resilience, and creativity. The more we feed the LLM’s and tools these narrative, the less bias will present.
  • Create new economies of work: where flexibility isn’t a perk, it’s the foundation. The opportunity is enormous. But only if we claim it!

If AI is left to be defined by the Silicon Valley bros and tech dudes in your office, it will replicate the same systems that already shut us out. If mothers step in, experiment, and shape it, we can build something better. Not just for us, but for everyone.
Think of it as inventive, as being resourceful and creative with our thinking. And mothers have always been good at that, right?

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So here’s my call to action for mothers and others, reading this…

Mothers, play with AI. It’s not scary or uninviting. Break it, bend it, push it. Use it to sketch that side hustle, to pitch that business idea, to design work that actually fits your life!

Because if mothers don’t step in now, we risk being erased from the future of work before it’s even been written. Now is the time to really flex the skills, and pull up a seat at the table. In fact, forget the table, build your own AI table with cosy chairs and warm cups of tea and invite other women to sit at it with you.

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Motherland in Adland: Sarah Collinson

Sarah Collinson 2.hB0Nc6WE - NERD Blog - Motherland in Adland: Sarah Collinson

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this instalment of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – we hear from Sarah Collinson, chief executive officer of Havas New York.

Sarah shares her experience of navigating pregnancy, parenting and leadership all at once – from fertility struggles and all-day sickness to the emotional tug-of-war between work and home. With candour and humour, she reflects on what it really takes to lead while parenting young children, and why embracing imperfection, drawing boundaries, and showing up authentically may just be the most powerful form of leadership we have.

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Being a leader is tough.
Being a leader, while being a parent to a 4 year old, while also being pregnant is maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Part of me feels bad even saying this because my journey to parenthood has been an exhausting fertility rollercoaster that has taken up the majority of my thirties.
From the relentless ‘keep-trying-but-nothings-happening’, to the nightmare of miscarriages and an ectopic, to countless doctors’ appointments, injecting myself in random bathrooms, and running around cities at 7am trying to find somewhere to get a blood test before a meeting – it’s pretty much been the opposite of a good time

But MAN, working parenthood is tough.

Our industry is about people.
We have to research them, understand them, appeal to them – and yet with all that knowledge of what it takes to be a human, the basic pulls of working in a client-service business mean that for parents, balancing work and home can feel impossible.

The constant juggle that makes it feel like you’re half-assing everything, anti-social global hours that don’t take bathtime into consideration, and pitches that can swallow a weekend or five. All this, coupled with the thing I always struggled to admit – that when my son Felix was very little, working sometimes felt easier than being with a crying baby.

This industry also demands energy.
It’s a team sport, and we have to show up every day for our colleagues, teams, and clients.

It’s the thing I’ve found the hardest (and most rewarding) about being a CEO. If things are good, the people responsible need to be celebrated and recognized. If things are bad, they need encouragement and help. If you lose an account or a pitch, everyone else can despair, but you need to be there pretty damn fast with momentum and a game plan that helps people pick themselves up and start again.

It takes a lot out of you. And there are times I feel I give everything to work, and then rush home only to be a moody parent who doesn’t have the energy to read Curious George eight times in a row.

I found out that I was pregnant with my second child at the end of January and almost immediately started pretty epic morning sickness that lasted all day (and until week 16). Think heaving in the toilets no one uses on the 4th floor before big meetings, exhaustion levels that meant I wanted to nap under my desk and a generally crap feeling that never dissipated no matter how many bagels I ate.

Almost as soon as this phase wrapped (thank god), my hips and lower back seemed to disintegrate. I got an ugly belly band and tried to up my stretching, but walking was painful and standing still for any length of time became excruciating (why does no one sit down at drinks events??)

None of these things are conducive to being a pinnacle of energy and light.
It was a particularly tough adjustment because my first pregnancy was at the height of covid, and I didn’t step foot in an office.

To deal with it, I’ve become maniacal about energy conservation.
Getting good sleep, trying to ‘exercise’ – even if that means just walking for 30 minutes in the evening – and becoming even better at saying that wonderful word: “no.”

There is no solution for how to make this easy, but these are my learnings :

Tell partners early

Because of my fertility history, I didn’t tell anyone for a long time, but as soon as I brought the leadership team in, I felt supported. From ordering me mocktails when out with a booze client, to moments in pitches where I thought I might hurl and whispered they might have to take over (it never happened – but it came close), to simply having people to moan to – they, and everyone else at Havas, have been truly wonderful. The good news is we work in an industry of amazing humans. Let them help.

Prioritize ruthlessly

If you’re a parent, you’ll already be doing this. Do this more. Cut the chaff and focus on what is essential and meaningful. Sometimes that will mean cutting meetings short and delegating things you might not have before (they have to get used to you being out soon anyway).

Draw ground rules for yourself that you don’t break

This is something I’m telling myself in retrospect, as I very much did not do it initially. Give yourself a break, allow yourself to rest, hold time in your calendar to stretch, to walk, and to just sit in silence. Maybe don’t go into the office as much – especially if it’s summer in NYC and a million degrees.

Know there will be adjustments

I went to Cannes six months pregnant. I still did all of the Cannes things, but in orthopedic shoes with scheduled time for breaks. I also discovered the joy of swimming in the sea between panels and going for dinner. And yes, I mean that beach by The Martinez, where the chances of running into your biggest CMO in a towel are very high. I’ve never done it before for this very reason, but there’s nothing like being overheated and pregnant to make you think “fuck it.”

Lean into doing less

As someone who usually says yes to (almost) everything, turning down invitations and saying no has been tough, but I have to admit, it’s really helped. I’ve trimmed my priorities to family and work. Other things have fallen off a cliff, but with the knowledge that it’s not forever and they will be picked back up (I have a running list on my phone of all the fun things I am going to do when I can walk and drink again – a list my friends are increasingly terrified of).

Let yourself go to bed at 9pm
I feel like I’m a kid. But god, it’s helped.

The end is in sight but soon my new messy reality will be parenting two children, requiring more adjustments and a different type of exhaustion.

This journey has taught me that leadership isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about adapting, prioritizing, and embracing imperfection. If you’re pregnant, parenting, or simply juggling life’s demands as a leader, your resilience to Keep Calm and Keep Showing Up is your greatest strength. So rest when you need it, learn to say no, lean on your people, and show up as the real you (even when that you is exhausted and with ankles so swollen you can barely fit into Birkenstocks), knowing that this authenticity is probably the most inspiring leadership of all.

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Motherland in Adland: Marisa Posadinu

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In this instalment of the series, senior support advisor at NABS shares her own positive experience of returning to work after maternity leave – and the insight she’s gained from supporting hundreds of other parents across adland.

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this instalment of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – we hear from Marisa Posadinu, senior support advisor at NABS.

Marisa’s perspective is uniquely dual: both as a working mum herself, and as someone who supports countless parents across the industry. She knows just how tough the juggle can be – and how rare genuine support still is. From her own positive experience at NABS to the difficult stories she hears every day, Marisa shares what true flexibility looks like – and what the industry must do to make it the norm.

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I know how tough it can be to be a mum in this industry. That’s because I have the privilege of helping parents across adland in my role as a senior support advisor at NABS. I hear first-hand about the obstacles stopping mums from progressing; about the challenges affecting parents’ mental wellness and ability to thrive at work and at home (because when you have a child, work and home life are more meshed than ever).

Before I write about those challenges and my thoughts on what we can all do to support working mums, I’m going to share my own experience. It’s an experience I’m lucky to have, and I share it because I want everybody to know that it is possible, even simple, to offer working mums the help they need to do well.

NABS is a really fantastic place to become a mum. I had my daughter in 2022, two years after joining the team. I had an inkling that I’d be in safe hands, because there are so many working parents at NABS; come into the office on any day and you’re sure to have a conversation with someone about nursery, school, the holiday juggle… I knew that I’d be met with flexibility and understanding, and I have been.

I communicated with my manager sporadically during my mat leave and this increased in the final few months. I had 10 KIT days, which I used to get up to speed with any changes and get myself back in to ‘work headspace’. I chose to do this: there was no pressure to use my KIT days at all.

When I eventually came back after 13 months, onboarding was great, thanks to empathy and awareness that sleep was still an issue. I was assigned a work buddy who I could turn to with day-to-day questions and had regular 121s with my manager to discuss my transition back into work.

Although I wanted to come back full-time – extortionate childcare costs have placed financial pressure on me and my partner – it soon became apparent that I needed more flexibility. I changed to condensed hours, working my full-time hours across Tuesday to Friday, and two years on I’m still benefiting from this pattern. It allows me to be better organised and focussed while having an extra day with my daughter. And when sick days and doctor’s appointments happen, I can take them with no judgement.

I’m lucky. I know from hearing hundreds of stories that this isn’t the case for all of us.
Mums calling NABS tell me that the juggle isn’t just real, it’s overwhelming. A lack of flexibility and long hours make the demands of the industry unmanageable; many mums will log on after bedtime, exhausted and struggling to keep up. Burnout, stress and anxiety are common as a result, with people calling NABS for urgent emotional support.

It’s even more difficult for parents of children with SEND, who need even more flexibility at work to navigate the system and fight for additional support.
I also hear of mothers being discriminated against by managers, allocating projects, clients and promotional opportunities to those who are ‘unencumbered’ by childcare responsibilities.

Add in the rising costs of childcare to this difficult mix, and it’s no surprise that many mums are looking for roles outside of the industry.

This is a terrible shame, and it can be – and should be – avoided. Mums have so much to contribute to adland, so we all need to work together to keep them with us.

So what do we all need to do?

As an industry, we could create a standardised parental policy, raising the bar to reduce the disparity between organisations and making sure that parents get the support they need across the board.

Support networks, mentorship, coaching and training should all be created and encouraged – and also point parents towards NABS’ resources including our advice line and group workshops.

Managers are key, as we discovered in All Ears, NABS’ community consultation. Equip your managers to have more open and supportive conversations with their teams – our Managers’ Mindsets workshops are a brilliant way to develop these skills.

Flexibility helps to remove stress, support mental wellness and furthers creativity and productivity as a result. Remote working, flexible hours and job sharing are just three solutions here. It’s about output, not presenteeism.

Many people become even more motivated about our careers once we have children. By putting the right structures in place, we can enable them to thrive. Let’s celebrate parenthood as an asset, not a hindrance.

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Motherland in Adland: Davitha Tiller

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In this instalment of the series, head of social and integrated communication at Havas shares her experience of becoming a single mother in a city away from her family, and how building a daily rhythm with her son has helped her grow in her life and career.

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this instalment of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – we hear from Davitha Tiller, head of social and integrated communication at Havas.

Davitha shares her experience of becoming a single mother while leading in one of the industry’s most demanding sectors – with no family nearby, no fallback, and a young son relying on her. What followed was a journey of emotional extremes: fear, liberation, exhaustion, growth. And, ultimately, pride.

From the challenges of raising a child alone in New York City to the structural support of working under strong female leadership, Davitha’s story is one of extraordinary resilience – and a powerful reminder that motherhood, in all its forms, can shape more empathetic, grounded leaders.

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IT WASN’T THE PLAN, BUT IT’S MY PATH.

I will never forget my first official day as a single working mom.

I was standing in the kitchen of the apartment my 11-month-old son and I had just moved into following my difficult separation from his father. After a long day of meetings, pitching and thinking; I had put him to bed, and now it was time to make myself dinner. But before I could so much as reach for a pan, a wave of emotion hit me – an overwhelming cocktail of debilitating fear and exhilarating relief.

There was the fear of the road ahead. The relentless logistics. The loneliness. The unknown. And at the same time, there was this liberating sense of reclaiming control – of knowing that, for better or worse, I was back in the driver’s seat of my own life.

How am I going to do all of this?

The sleepless nights. The childcare arrangements. The all-day meetings. The after-work mom mode. The after-mom-mode work mode. The co-parenting conflicts. The tiredness. The confronting reality of knowing that you’re staring at your greatest support system in the mirror.

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And yet – alongside all that – came the longing to be the best mom I could possibly be. To stay healthy, strong and active. To nurture friendships. To make new mom friends. To help my son make his first friends. To sign him up for extracurriculars. To travel the world for work and for fun. To eventually, maybe, date again.

Being an expat single mom in a place like New York City, with no family nearby and a sole custody parenting arrangement, while working a demanding leadership job in our fast-paced industry, is its own level of hard. And being a stubborn Taurean who doesn’t easily accept help certainly didn’t… well, help.

The non-stop nature of it all was terrifying. And, honestly, some days it still is. But even in the darkest moments, I held onto one belief: that eventually, it would get easier. And it did.

To my own surprise, I wouldn’t change a thing about my journey.

Because what I’ve learned is this: just like writing, or riding a bike, once you get the hang of single working mom life, it becomes second nature. And in doing so, it reveals a level of vulnerability and resilience you might never have known you had.

I’ve always been a creature of habit, someone who believes that structure is the antidote to chaos. So I approached life with my son like a military mission – building a daily rhythm so reliable, both he and I could follow it with our eyes closed. That structure became my lifeline. It still carries us through.

And through it all – just as research so often shows about children raised by single mothers – my son has become the most loving, flexible, perceptive, and emotionally intelligent little man. He lights up my life every single day, and together, we make a pretty great team.

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And speaking of teams; I am immensely grateful to work for an agency with a strong female leader at the global helm, where offering people the flexibility and support to navigate their personal circumstances isn’t an exception – but the cultural norm.

Over the years, I’ve come to wear my “single mom” title not as a burden, but as a badge of honour.

It wasn’t the plan, but it is my path. It has made me who I am.
And today, I can finally say it:
I’m proud of her.

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Motherland in Adland: Jennifer Mejia-Ponce

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Senior producer at Area 23 New York Jennifer Mejia-Ponce talks about being a queer Filipina mother in the US, the challenges of navigating a global pandemic and being a new parent, and more

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this edition of Motherland in Adland, we hear from Jennifer Mejia-Ponce – a seasoned senior producer whose nearly 30-year career spans broadcast, live events, and experiential campaigns for brands like Netflix, Canon, and Nike. As a queer Filipina mother, Jennifer brings a powerful, intersectional voice to the conversation – one shaped by decades of hustle, reinvention, and resilience.

From TV studios to Bayfront builds and virtual broadcast meetings with a baby on her lap, Jennifer reflects on the evolution of her identity as both a producer and a parent. She speaks candidly about the tension between ambition and presence, and the added layers of navigating parenthood as a non-biological mum in today’s political landscape.

Jennifer’s story speaks of adaptation, strength, and reframed success in both the projects she’s delivered and in the values she’s passing on to the next generation. Read on to hear her story.

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Wouldn’t it be grand if I could just put some prompts into ChatGPT and boom, here is my story. But of course that wouldn’t be authentic, would it? How do I talk about myself and my experiences and show everyone reading the private side of myself.

Opening up brings up feelings of not being enough, of ‘Am I worthy to read about’, self doubt and roadblocks of not feeling like I fit anywhere. I didn’t see many Asian Pacific Islanders/queer folk in the industry when I started my career. I missed the cultural connection that would make me feel like there were others like me. The industry is vast and can sometimes feed loneliness, especially after moving into remote work.

I’ve been a producer for almost three decades. Graduating from film school in the late 90’s, I worked for eight years in television with studios such as ABC and MTV. I was sadly making more than my single mom who then had served 20 years in the New York City hospital system.

Speaking of, I come from a culture where being in the medical field is almost a given – I could have been a nurse, like many of my fellow Filipinos, but I went into a job that to this day, my mom still doesn’t quite understand. It wasn’t typical. But when they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, my response was always manifold – an accountant, carpenter, photographer. So in a way, it makes sense I’m a producer today – we’re seen as the multitaskers, budget-sorcerers, and fire chiefs of the industry. The planner and mother of the group.
Long story short, when I graduated, I had dreams of working in film. With stars in my eyes, I imagined I’d be the next Discovery Channel Jacques Cousteau. But ‘The Deep Blue’ documentary made me rethink the idea. I ended up in television, but felt like I was young, naive and too nice for the environment.

I fell into experiential/live production and it was a 16-year-long ride of freelancing. Starting a staffing agency, creating Christmas at Macy’s for seven years, building production kits, training manuals and large installations in the middle of Miami Bayfront or FYSEE event spaces for Netflix in LA. I was also a bartender, security at a nightclub, tour manager, stage manager. I must have done 1000 interviews. Producing and being a workaholic was my life.

Time grew, experience grew and I realised I could take my experience and grow with it. I was building structures that were said to be impossible with my own hands and loving the adventure. I showed my wife that her tech knowledge was a great fit for production, and we worked together for years so we could produce our wedding and eventually raise enough money to start a family. We had a goal – more than just climbing some invisible work ladder. We were aiming for it all.

The adventure hit full stop when covid happened, coincidentally also when our baby was about to be born. The work I was building was gone. Travelling the country changed to travelling to the living room. The money we set aside was collapsing. Hustling and working three jobs at a time all came to a halt. I had just started feeling comfortable in my suit and tie I wore to events, but events were no longer.

When the world came out of lockdown with masks and virtual events. I had to re-start; contemplating about travelling 80% of the year for production jobs or not seeing the child we planned to have.

I call myself blessed after eight months of struggling with fear of how to care for our growing family. I said yes to a full time job being a virtual and senior producer in broadcast/advertising. One of the best work perks was that I was able to hold my baby during conference calls. I felt like a fish out of water, but being able to smell my baby was what calmed me. Broadcast was familiar but far from what I recalled – I reminded myself of the hustle to learn every facet of experiential with no guide book; this new role was no exception.

At 48, our daughter was born and I buckled down at my new job. Life was fulfilling its destiny after marrying my wife five years earlier when marriage became legal in the US.

Now it’s 2025. Feeling older than my peers, where in most businesses you would be looked at to exit or move up positions. I am also now navigating a not-so-baby four-year-old with emotions that I need to understand, through experiences I myself wasn’t allowed to feel as a child. I am the gentle parent who is trying to keep the gentleness, even though I was plopped in front of a TV growing up and constantly told to keep quiet.

Nothing can prepare you for having a kid and a full-time job at the same time – not even working months on a production and 72 hours straight of no sleep. It’s a completely different type of exhaustion. Now, you’re living for a small human who needs you literally at every step of life – priorities shift.

Now, I am a senior producer who slowed down her career to be home with the toddler, and a mama who’s had to navigate feelings of not being ‘the biological mom’. The mom who had to get court papers – to be my child’s legal mom if something was to happen. You’d think loving it would be enough, but our political climate is not supportive of queer lives.

Each day weighs differently in my head. Family versus work? Am I getting too old for this? Which comes first, the toddler who asks me to put my phone down, or the meeting? Do I say to my child ‘Wait five minutes’, so I can send my pressing emails about timelines, budgets and client must-haves? Do I feel all the guilt of missed playdates? Do I start missing school events to not be up ‘till midnight working through what I didn’t do during the day?

I sometimes miss the set builds and events where I was king with my walkie talkie and creating experiences that made people smile. But now I get to be home when my child gets out of school or needs a hug. I finally fit in with so many other moms, who, too, juggle work and parenthood. I found my community in some way, even if it’s through a screen! I’ve found a space where I can produce award-winning work – one that matters in the real world.

I’ve always said, producing is being asked to make unicorns fly. One, unicorns don’t fly. Two, unicorns aren’t real. But being both a producer and mother in today’s world is even harder – we shift, we reset and find the ways to survive and to learn from the struggles. We fight to be stronger, to be better and to secure balance like we do on any production set. I’m looking forward to the future where my kid learns to see the world, hopefully knowing her mom could do pretty much anything with a good mindset.

I can’t say I’m at all perfect, or that I don’t struggle daily with my direction. But, the best part of this industry is that it’s an open door. Like an AI prompt, I just need to figure out the key words to get me where I’m supposed to be.

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Motherland in Adland: Georgina Leigh-Pemberton

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In this next instalment of ‘Motherland in Adland’, managing director of Turner Duckworth London tells LBB about the lessons she learned about the industry through motherhood, and why no parent should have to “miss a sports day or a school play” because of work.

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this installment of Motherland in Adland, the series started by NERD’s founder Milana Karaica in celebration of women’s month, we hear from Georgina Leigh-Pemberton, managing director of Turner Duckworth London. 

From her own experience, Georgina tells an all-too-well story of broken promises and settling for a lower-than-deserved role due to her pregnancy. Overworking herself due to the invisible pressure of the industry, and riddled with parental guilt, Georgina inevitably had to address the burnout and left her workplace with nowhere else to go to.

She calls it a “painful but valuable lesson” — one she believes no mothers in the industry should have to learn due to the downfalls of their employers. Read on to find out more about Georgina’s story. 

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My first personal experience of this came when a previous employer took me out to dinner after strongly implying that I was in line for a senior role — until, after declining a martini and, when pressed, confiding in the CFO that I was pregnant, the opportunity quietly disappeared.

When I returned to work in a different role after my first child was six months old, I was determined to prove that being a great MD and a wonderful mother was possible. I put myself under immense pressure to succeed — and in doing so, I set myself up for failure.

Every day, I left home before my daughter woke up and returned just in time to put her to bed. My company never explicitly pressured me to stay late, but I was acutely aware of the unspoken expectations. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and guilty, I left after six months, without another job to go to. It was a painful but valuable lesson, one I carry with me to this day: no one should choose between being present for their family and excelling in their career.

I’m incredibly fortunate to now work for a company that fosters a culture of genuine support for working parents. It’s not just about returning to work — it’s about ensuring ongoing flexibility and understanding throughout our careers.

No one should have to miss a sports day or a school play because of a presentation — these moments matter.

I know many in this industry are not as lucky. Parenthood is too often viewed as an inconvenient disruption rather than a natural part of life. This mindset has to change. Flexible working is part of the solution, but we need to go further and offer more adaptable hours, greater autonomy over office days, and a culture that values productivity over presenteeism.

While I’m encouraged to see attitudes shifting away from the expectation that working late into the night is just ‘part of the job,’ the change isn’t happening fast enough. And it’s not just parents who deserve better balance — no one’s time should be treated as less valuable simply because they don’t have children.

Everyone has responsibilities, relationships, and lives outside of work that deserve respect. Until we address the culture of systemic overwork across the board, creating a genuinely supportive environment for working parents will always be an uphill battle.

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Motherland in Adland: Charlotte Coughlan

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In this week’s installment of the series, Leo Burnett managing partner Charlotte Coughlan shares her journey from a disappointing maternity leave, to helping champion initiatives such as Parentland.

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this installment of Motherland in Adland, the series started by NERD’s founder Milana Karaica in celebration of women’s month, we hear from Charlotte Coughlan, managing partner at Leo Burnett. As a mother of two, Charlotte has experienced the lack of representation and support for working mums in advertising firsthand.

Her own maternity leave left her feeling disconnected and underestimated which fueled her commitment to fostering a culture where parents can thrive without compromise. Under the leadership of CEO Carly Avener, Charlotte champions initiatives like Parentland, ensuring working parents at Leo Burnett feel seen, supported, and empowered to succeed both at home and in their careers.

Charlotte shares her perspective on why representation matters, how flexibility should be a given – not a privilege – and why true equity in the industry means encouraging both parents to take leave.


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I’m a working mother of two in the zany, exhausting, but rewarding world of advertising. Unfortunately, growing up in this industry, I had few role models who were mothers to look up to. My personal experience with maternity leave was disappointing – little communication, little support, and an assumption on my behalf that motherhood meant I wasn’t ambitious anymore. I therefore know firsthand how important it is to provide dialogue throughout the entire motherhood journey, from pregnancy through to returning to work and crucially, for maintaining a career. Just because we’re mothers, doesn’t mean we’re not ambitious anymore.

What’s key to creating a better environment for working mums is representation. We’re fortunate at Leo Burnett to have Carly Avener as our CEO. She sets the tone for our culture and agenda, making sure working parents feel included and can thrive both professionally and at home. Her leadership as a single mum is an example of how top-down support can truly impact a company’s approach to work-life balance.

When a culture is right, all working parents feel empowered to work flexibly. It’s not about being in the office five days a week; it’s about being trusted to excel in what we do, all within a structure that allows us to dart home if we get the dreaded call from nursery or need to volunteer at the school disco.

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This freedom of flexibility is vital to ensuring that we’re not forced to choose between being good parents and being good professionals.

Feeling isolated and ‘the only one’ at an agency is crippling. At Leo Burnett, we’ve set up Parentland, a strong support system and network aimed at bringing parents to kids of all ages plus carers together and providing invaluable advice for navigating the realities we face. This includes expert guidance, financial advice, and even a Teams chat for solidarity and humour on the tough days. We lean on each other to better manage juggling it all.  So, it’s not just our partners at home getting the brunt of our working-parent-frazzle! Personally I’m lucky with how much my partner has supported me through the journey.

One thing the industry needs to improve on, and we simply don’t see enough of, is encouraging both parents to take leave. It’s time for us to recognise that true equity can’t be achieved without shared responsibility.

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If partners take leave, it helps reduce the pressure on mums and can drive long-term change, even as far as reducing the gender pay gap.

We’re so lucky to be a part of this amazing industry, one where we should ALL be able to thrive – but there’s still strides to be made. With dialogue, the right support systems, freedom of flexibility, and representation at the top, mothers in particular can soar without having to compromise.

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Motherland in Adland: Bethany Easton and Chinkara Singh

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As part of the series ‘Motherland in Adland’, Bethany and Chinkara share their stories of motherhood in the industry full of resilience, honesty, and a need for change, with LBB

Motherhood in advertising and production is still seen as a hurdle rather than an asset – a choice that forces women into impossible trade-offs, often laced with guilt and sacrifice. While the conversation around working mothers has grown louder, real action remains slow.

This series, spearheaded by NERD’s Milana Karaica, Motherland in Adland aims to give space to the realities of balancing leadership and parenthood, beyond the clichés and lip service

Following Milana’s story, we now hear from two more women navigating this delicate, demanding balance. Freelance senior agency producer Bethany Easton reflects on the relentless push-and-pull between career passion and the emotional weight of motherhood, sharing the raw, bittersweet moments of being present yet absent at the same time. Meanwhile, Chinkara Singh, SVP, group director of creative production at Area 23, sheds light on the systemic challenges – from missed promotions to self-funded maternity leave – while celebrating the power of solidarity and advocacy for working mothers in the industry.

Bethany Easton, senior agency producer
Freelance

I am insanely lucky to have a job that I bloody love, and even luckier to have the daughter and then the son that I always dreamt of. We have the sort of genuinely happy lives that make most people want to vomit just a little, like when my kids snuggle under a blanket with their books, occasionally whispering ‘I love you’ to each other. I’m not even lying and I totally permit you to hate my smug gittish face.

But there’s something about being a working parent that forces a mum to live in a state of permanent, and painful, cognitive dissonance.

In the red corner: having an identity. I’m so happy when I’m working. I love that I’m modelling for my kids how amazing it is to be fired-up by hard work and passion, and I can afford to send them to schools where they’re safe and happy.

In the blue corner, weighing in at more than any heart can take: guilt.

There was the time I was working hard, utterly smashing it on a huge production, and through the baby monitor (which always adds a touch of horror-film quease), I heard my toddler saying to the baby “Don’t worry, baby, Mummy is just working. And do you know when she’ll stop working? Never. Even when she’s dead, she’ll be working and feeding the trees.”

There was another time, just after the youngest had learned to write, that I had to focus on an evening conference call while he brought me multiple notes along the lines of ‘WEN WIL YOU BE FINSHED’, and ‘YOU ARE HERE BUT I STILL MIS YOU’. And actually, perhaps the hardest part of that call wasn’t even the notes, but the way I felt I had to keep my eyes and smile fixed on the camera, and effectively blank my son. That hurt us both.

Nobody imagines that one day they might be the sort of mum who tries to mutter to her child that she honestly does love them, whilst briefly on mute and trying not to move her lips.

It’s exhausting to pretend that we don’t all have actual lives, in which we are charged with the safe-keeping of the tiny hearts of small humans who actually mean more to us than anything, even – whisper it – the smooth running of a shampoo commercial.

But things are definitely shifting, and in the right direction (ish). Along with the post-pandemic total breakdown of any work-life boundaries, and being required to be available 24 hours a day, comes the opportunity to be honest about childcare needs, GP appointments, gym classes, the dentist, and all the myriad things that, but a short few years ago, we felt required to pretend didn’t even exist. Everything is changing and, with luck, will change permanently, meaning my kids will forever be astounded and confused by what they thought were my choices to make. And that hurts, too.

Chinkara Singh SVP, group director, creative production
Area 23

The last thing you want to see in an ad agency is the top of your 18-month-old son’s curls bopping down the main corridor on his way to a client meeting. He was squealing with joy that he made it away from me. Luckily, my kind creative director caught him just before an awkward career moment. The babysitter couldn’t make it, my husband was away on a shoot, and I couldn’t cancel my meetings because they were timed against an important award meeting. It was one of those ‘What do I do?’ moments.

After 25 years in this industry, I’ve faced many challenges both personal and professional. There was a time I was passed over for a promotion because I temporarily couldn’t fly. I also missed out on freelance opportunities because I had too many doctor’s appointments during my high-risk pregnancy. When my youngest was born, I had to pay for an entire year of maternity leave out of pocket to bond with my child. It wasn’t easy. But I’ve had wins too, like IPG being the first company I worked full-time for that allowed stepchildren on insurance! And being supported for speaking up when I needed to pump breastmilk on set and still watch takes.

I’ve also had to push through some incredibly difficult personal moments. I’ve gone to work after miscarriages, feeling physically and emotionally drained, because the expectation is often that we just keep going, no matter the pain we’re carrying. There should be more time for gig workers and staffers to take the time they need after such a loss. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s something many of us have had to endure in silence, because there’s often no room for grief in the fast-paced world of production.

One thing I’m particularly proud of was encouraging a mother who had just had twins. She was about to go on a shoot and had to figure out how to ship her milk back home while she was away. I helped contribute to a guide for breastfeeding mothers on set, written by Bernadette Rivero, and pointed her toward this resource. A resource that every production department should offer to working mothers. Another mother came to me for encouragement for her IVF journey because I was open with mine. That sense of solidarity in the face of challenges knowing that we’re all in this together means community.

The truth is, being open about both the struggles and successes allows us to learn from each other. When we share the highs and lows of motherhood, we create a stronger support system for all parents in this fast-paced, high-pressure industry. It’s about showing up as your whole self and helping others do the same. By being honest, we can make this industry more inclusive, supportive, and encouraging for mothers.