I celebrated my parental leave on my LinkedIn, as I would for any new job

This is a First Person column by Kate Hoad-Reddick, who lives in Guelph, Ont. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, see the FAQ.

Scrolling through a feed takes on a whole new meaning when you're a new parent in a late-night breastfeeding session and reach for your phone in a last-ditch effort to stay awake. 

As I cycled through the usual suspects of social media apps while on a feed-to-feed strategy, I mindlessly clicked on LinkedIn — an app I hadn't dared touch since starting my parental leave four months ago. It wasn't my season to dabble in the sphere of paid work updates (or so I thought). After all, I was on an expansive 18-month largely unpaid leave from my job as an instructor and curriculum developer at the University of Guelph. Such a robust leave is a privileged opportunity indeed, and I was trying to grant myself space from the work life that had been the focal point of my younger adult life. 

Alas, LinkedIn welcomed me with a barrage of backlogged "I'm thrilled to" announcements. My feed was bursting with effervescent first-job posts from past students, think pieces from educators and updates from my circle of 30-something friends finally landing stable work. Still mid-feed, I hungrily — and enviously — congratulated folks on their successes. I had a moment of melancholy: as much as I loved this new chapter, I missed my job, especially the vibrancy of September campus life. 

Then it occurred to me that I had a professional update to share, too: I had become a parent. 

I'd experienced an intense onboarding regime and was certainly developing new skills in breastfeeding, soothing and worrying. While I am lucky to have an incredible co-parent in this endeavour, I'm the one pulling the 9-to-5 — and more. My academic skill set was being applied to learning baby sleep cues, enriching tummy time and managing loneliness. 

It turns out parenting, like academia, takes research prowess, commitment and tenacity. Special shout out to my own mother for providing lots of hands-on training and emotional support; there is deep institutional knowledge there that I am grateful to access. Recent workplace successes included excellent nighttime time management, minimal-mess diaper changes and highly rated cuddles. Challenges were present, too: There is no remote work option, and my demanding new boss wasn't paying me for full-time work, let alone any overtime. I know, rude. 

This is a job like any other; it's one I love desperately but one that's also a tremendous amount of work. Dare I update my LinkedIn to showcase such a profound new opportunity?

My hesitancy to do so bothered me. As part of my paid job, I coach students to build their resumes by extrapolating their volunteerism, coursework and summer jobs to professional settings. I've given talks to graduate students who want to leave academia for industry or wish to make their PhD more approachable on a resume. I advocate for the value of hands-on experiential learning all the time, so why would being a parent be any different? 

For having a very cerebral career, I've certainly never been this hands-on before. And honestly, I haven't experienced this level of intense education and valuable personal growth since the trenches of my doctorate. If becoming a parent is such an education, why aren't all the new parents "thrilled to announce" their learnings on LinkedIn?

Methinks it's the patriarchy at work. Traditionally, it has been the work of women to stay home with children, and even today, women in Canada are still more likely to take parental leaves than their male counterparts and compromise their career trajectories. But what if parents reclaimed this "lost" time — these years of growth, development and perseverance — that capitalist patriarchy has deemed professionally irrelevant for generations? 

These omissions in our resumes betray the powerful assets that help make up the "us" we eventually bring back to our paid workplace. I can put a nap-resistant infant to sleep while being desperate for sleep myself. Not to mention the fact that I consistently meet expectations when it comes to laundry (folding needs improvement), making silly voices and carrying the mental load of parenting. Surely all this accounts for something.

I decided it was time to flip the script and celebrate my new job with a LinkedIn post. So, I announced my "new role" as a parent. While my goal was to use humour to explore my new reality, my update resonated. The response from my network was extraordinary. Some of my professional mentors commented, nay rejoiced, in loud agreement. 

• Have you posted parental leave on LinkedIn? Is that something you would consider doing? Send an email to ask@cbc.ca and tell us why or why not.

Despite the silence around them, parental leaves have professional relevance and I wonder how I can encourage my network to proudly put their parental leaves on their resumes. What's more, what might it look like to walk into an interview celebrating that experience? What if a parental leave signalled meaningful professional development? Clearly being a parent means that you work well individually and in a team. 

Who knows, maybe the skills I'm developing as a new parent will land me my next promotion. Better yet, maybe domestic, unpaid work will become more respected and rewarded in the way of public sphere work. 

I may be sleep deprived but I can dream. 

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