HR Said ‘We Support Women’,Then Denied Paid Maternity Leave

Omo it’s women’s month again and it just randomly crossed my mind what I experienced last year at my previous company and couldn’t but share with you guys.

I should have known when they sent out that International Women’s Day email with stock photos of ‘empowered women’ but forgot to include a single woman from the company. 

But I was naïve. I thought maybe, just maybe, when the time came, they’d actually practice what they preached.

I was five months pregnant when I first spoke to HR. I figured it was early enough to plan my maternity leave properly, hand over my tasks, and ensure a smooth transition. The HR lady smiled warmly and said, “Oh, congratulations! We’re so happy for you.”

Then she asked if I could work right up until my due date.

I laughed, thinking she was joking. She wasn’t.

“The team is a little stretched right now,” she explained. “We need all hands on deck.”

Okay, fine. I had already been pulling extra weight because we were short-staffed, but I wasn’t about to argue at that moment. Instead, I asked about the company’s maternity leave policy.

That was when her smile disappeared.

“Well… technically, we don’t have a structured policy for maternity leave.”

Excuse me? A company that proudly celebrates Women’s Month every March, reposts ‘Women in Leadership’ LinkedIn posts, and even has a ‘Diversity & Inclusion’ banner on its website has NO maternity leave policy?

“Then what do women who give birth here do?” I asked, feeling my baby kick as if he, too, wanted an answer.

She hesitated. “We usually just… figure it out case by case.”

I pushed further. “So, how long can I take off?”

She exhaled like I was exhausting her. 

“Well, the thing is… with our current financial situation, the company can’t afford to pay for extended leave. It’s not really in the budget.”

The budget. The same budget that somehow funded a lavish leadership retreat last month. The same budget that approved the CEO’s new company car. 

The same budget that never seemed to run out when it was time to host ‘empowerment brunches’ with male executives on the panel.

I stared at her, waiting for her to say something, anything, that made sense. But she just adjusted her glasses and smiled apologetically.

“So, how much time can I take off?” I asked again, slower this time.

“Well, we can allow two weeks… unpaid, of course.”

TWO WEEKS? Two weeks to have a whole human being, heal, and figure out childcare?

I wanted to scream. But all I could do was sit there, hands on my belly, listening to a company that ‘supports women’ tell me that my child wasn’t ‘in the budget.’

And just like that, I knew, I wasn’t coming back after this baby.

And I was taking my talents (and future children) elsewhere.

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