One afternoon in late August, I was getting ready to interview the former leader of the free world, one of the most famous people on the planet, and my mind was on my little boy, who would be starting preschool in a few days.
My son is going through a big life adjustment, and I’m not there. I would be there on my first day, I reminded myself, and this interview would be a career highlight. But I will miss the orientation, meeting the teacher, and the other celebrations that are part of this rite of passage for my first child.
As I stood in the manufacturing facility in York, Pennsylvaniathat evening, waiting for the former President Donald Trump talking to me, pangs of mother guilt felt especially clear.
I’ve covered four presidential campaigns, but this is my first as a mom. This election life comes at a precious time in my children’s lives. I don’t want to miss work, and I don’t want to miss my kids who are three and one. I was amazed that I could witness history for life. But I was not at the important moment at home.
But mom has changed the way I think about politics and elections for the better. Our process from elect a leader also serves as a pulse check of the country, and I see a large part of the job as a report on what Americans say they need and care about. People clearly have a lot to worry about in their daily lives: that is expensiveThe world looks on edge, and the future feels uncertain. They want a better and safer life for their children – that’s the essence of the American dream. There are just so many different views about what that looks like.
You don’t have to be a mother to know this; you just have to be human. But this time, I found myself with more empathy than I ever had before. I also worry more than I used to. And some of the biggest issues in this particular election are ones I’ve seen myself.
The first question for Trump that day in August was about child tax credit. I spend half of my salary at home on child care. As someone who buys a gallon of milk a week for my kids, I cringe at the grocery bill. I am worried about whether my child can be exposed at school, and whether it is physically safe in the building. I went through fertility treatment to have my first child. I know what it’s like to be desperate to have a child. And I am lucky enough to know the joys of parenthood. I also suffer from postpartum depression. I know how difficult it is to navigate the medical and mental health systems that tend to leave mothers behind.
And I know that I come from a position of immense privilege, with a doting wife who takes on equal, if not more, parenting duties, two incomes, close family to help, fantastic childcare and a job that happens to be my love. My resources are not available for most. That is not fair. And it set women back.
All this informs my report. Many voters I meet on the campaign trail just need someone to listen. And I have tried to listen. I am in awe of people who are willing to pour their hearts out to reporters — complete strangers — in hopes of making a difference. I will never forget sitting in a living room in North Carolina as a couple explained the difficult IVF journey to me. And I’ll never forget the woman I met at a Trump rally in Virginia who told me her son had died of an overdose.
To have a conversation like that, I’ve missed a few conversations at the dinner table myself. I am in a war country instead of attending back to school at night. Lately, I’ve been spending more time in hotel rooms than in my kids’ rooms, tucking them into bed.
But my children are on my mind every minute, from big interviews to small scenes. I got to FaceTime him from the floor Republican National Convention. I ordered a Halloween costume while on the Trump press plane, flying somewhere through the Midwest. I bring books from the countries I have visited so that I can learn about where I am. And every time I see a construction vehicle on the road, I take a photo for my three-year-old who loves excavators. (Yes, “garbage truck” was a hit.)
My youngest son is about to take his first steps. I’m crossing my fingers that he waits until I get home from covering the election. But if not, I know he’ll keep going. And I will too. Being a mother and being a journalist is the honor of my life. And I am incredibly grateful for this journey.
Caitlin Huey-Burns
