I never planned to specialize in supporting mothers. In fact, not being a mother myself, I wasn't sure I could effectively serve their needs. But sometimes our greatest professional strengths emerge from unexpected places.
After transitioning from retail management to virtual assistance, I took on clients from various industries. Among them were three mothers running businesses—one a therapist with a private practice, another a graphic designer with a growing agency, and a third selling handmade products online.
These were not the high-powered executives I had initially targeted. They weren't leading corporations or managing large teams as I once did. Their businesses were smaller, more personal. I wondered if my extensive operational experience might be wasted.
I was wrong.
What I discovered was that mothers running businesses face uniquely complex operational challenges. They're not just balancing work and life—they're integrating them in a constantly shifting equation where variables change daily. A sick child, a school event, a childcare emergency—these aren't occasional disruptions but regular features of their professional landscape.
My background managing 2,500 employees across multiple locations had trained me to handle exactly this kind of complexity. In retail operations, no day goes according to plan. A staffing shortage here, an inventory problem there, a sudden rush of customers—retail managers live in a constant state of recalibration.
These adaptive management skills transferred perfectly to supporting mother entrepreneurs. When my client texts, "School just called. My son has a fever. Can you reschedule everything?" I don't panic. I pivot. When a client explains that she can only work during nap times and after bedtime, I don't see limitations—I see scheduling parameters, just like staffing constraints in my retail days.
What's most fascinating is how this specialty has changed my professional identity. In the Philippines, I was defined by my title and the number of people I managed. My professional worth was measured in hierarchy and scope of responsibility. Becoming a VA initially felt like stepping down from that position of authority.
But supporting mothers has reframed my understanding of impactful work. I'm no longer measuring my professional value by how many employees I supervise. Instead, I measure it by how effectively I create space for these women to succeed on their own terms.
When my therapist client tells me she was able to attend her daughter's school play because I reorganized her schedule, that feels more meaningful than any corporate achievement. When my graphic designer client lands a major project because I created systems that made her business appear larger and more established than her competitors, I feel a different kind of professional pride.
I've discovered that the real power of my operational expertise isn't in controlling large systems but in creating efficient small ones that accommodate human unpredictability. My Filipino cultural value of bayanihan—community support to achieve a common goal—feels more authentically expressed in this work than it ever did in corporate management.
I may not be a mother myself, but supporting mothers has mothered a new professional identity—one that values flexibility over hierarchy, impact over title, and human connection over corporate achievement.
Sometimes the most profound professional growth comes from serving those whose lives look nothing like our own.