"But What About Maternity Leave?"

50 TABS OPEN - ISSUE 03

By Tanika Chapman - Founder, ZEHN Wellness

Published Mar 12, 2026 - 6 min read

I need to get something off my chest. Strap in… its’s a long one.

If one more person tells me they "could never" work for themselves, I'm going to lose it. Not because I think everyone should run a business. Not because I think a 9 to 5 is wrong. But because of the tone. The way it gets said. Like choosing to back yourself is some kind of reckless, irresponsible, slightly embarrassing life decision that they need to politely distance themselves from.

"Oh I could never do that. I love my annual leave too much."

"Yeah but we get sick leave, so."

"I just like being able to leave work at work, you know?"

Cool. Genuinely, cool. I'm happy for you. But why does it always sound like you're trying to convince yourself more than me?

Here's what gets me fired up about it.

It's never just a preference. It's always a dig. There's always this little undercurrent of "I'm the smart one here." Like you've figured out the cheat code to life and I'm out here running around with my hair on fire making a terrible decision. Like self employment is something that happens to people who couldn't get a real job.

And the worst part? It doesn't just get said behind closed doors. It gets said to your face. It gets said at barbecues and birthday dinners and catch ups with friends. It gets said by people you love. People who smile while they say it and don't realise they're putting a tiny crack in the thing you're trying so hard to build.

"But what about super?"

"What happens when you get sick?"

"Don't you miss having a team?"

"How long are you going to give it?"

Every single one of those questions sounds like concern. But it doesn't feel like concern. It feels like doubt wearing a mask. And when you're already doubting yourself every single day, which you are, because that's what building something from nothing does to your brain, hearing it from the people around, the people you love, hits different.

I want to be really clear about something.

I am not having a go at people with jobs. I've had more jobs than most people will have in three lifetimes. I know what a salary feels like. I know what it's like to get paid on a Thursday and know exactly what's coming. I know the comfort of annual leave and sick days and not thinking about work on a Sunday night because it's not your problem until Monday morning.

I get it. I lived it. For years.

But I also know what it feels like to sit in someone else's office building someone else's thing and thinking, this isn't it. This isn't the thing. I'm good at this but I don't care about this. I'm making money but I'm not making anything that's mine.

And I know not everyone feels that way. Some people love their jobs. Some people find purpose and meaning and fulfilment working for someone else and that's beautiful and I mean that. Truly. The world needs those people.

But some of us can't do it. Some of us tried, properly tried, for years, and it just didn't fit. Not because we're lazy or unstable or can't commit. Because we're wired differently. Because the thing inside us that needs to create and build and figure it out on our own terms is louder than the thing that wants security.

You want to know what self employment actually looks like?

It looks like waking up at 5am because your brain won't stop and there's no one else to deal with the thing that needs dealing with. It looks like working weekends and not resenting it because the work is yours. It looks like crying in the car because a deal fell through and then getting out of the car and sending three more emails. It looks like no sick leave, no annual leave, no "leave work at work" because you are the work. You are the business. It lives in your bones.

It looks like checking your bank account twelve times a day. It looks like paying for everything yourself. Insurance. Equipment. Software. Fuel. Marketing. All of it, out of your own pocket, before a single dollar comes back.

It looks like being the CEO and the cleaner and the photographer and the customer service rep and the accountant and the social media manager all at the same time, all day, every day.

It looks like that. And I chose it anyway. Because the alternative was spending the next 30 years building someone else's dream and retiring with a watch and a superannuation balance and a list of things I wished I'd tried.

And here's the thing that really gets me.

The people who say "I could never" aren't just making a statement about themselves. They're making a statement about you. Whether they mean to or not. Because every time someone lists all the reasons they'd never do what you're doing, what they're really saying is "I don't think what you're doing is worth the sacrifice."

And that's fine. They don't have to think it's worth it. But don't say it to someone who's in the middle of it. Don't list your annual leave and your sick days and your work life balance to someone who just spent their savings on a trailer and a sauna and is trying to make something out of nothing.

Read the room.

If someone you know has quit their job and started something, the best thing you can do is ask them about it. Ask them what they're building. Ask them what they need. Ask them how it's going, properly, not in that head tilty way where you're really asking "are you okay?" but in a way that says "I see what you're doing and I think it's brave."

Because it is brave. It's the scariest thing I've ever done. Scarier than dancing in front of thousands of people for a NRL game. Scarier than moving to the other side of the world. Scarier than any of the 50 jobs that came before this one. Because this time there's no one else to blame if it doesn't work. No boss who made a bad call. No company that went under. Just me.

And then there's the other thing. The thing that only gets said to women.

I'm 30. I started ZEHN at 30. And apparently that's a problem. Not because 30 is too old or too young or too anything. But because I'm a woman. And apparently 30 is when you're supposed to be settling down, having kids, locking in the maternity leave, and being sensible.

"But what about kids? You need to start thinking about that soon."

"That's so selfish to Mitch and your family."

"What about maternity leave? You won't get that if you're self employed."

"Don't you think you should have done this earlier? Or later? After kids?"

Let me be really, really clear. My uterus is not a business plan. When and if I have kids is between me and Mitch and absolutely nobody else. And the idea that I should put my entire life's purpose on hold because there's some imaginary timeline where I'm supposed to reproduce first and dream later makes me want to scream into a pillow.

No one says this to men. No one. A 30 year old bloke quits his job to start a business and people say "good on ya mate, give it a crack." A 30 year old woman does the exact same thing and suddenly it's a family meeting. Suddenly everyone's got an opinion on your eggs, your finances, your relationship and your life choices, all disguised as caring.

It's not caring. It's control. And it's exhausting.

You know what's actually selfish? Giving up on the thing that makes you feel alive because someone thinks you should be prioritising a nursery over a business plan. Living a smaller life because other people's timeline doesn't match yours. Swallowing your ambition because it makes everyone around you more comfortable.

That's selfish. To yourself.

I'm not saying I don't want kids. I'm not saying I do. I'm saying it's none of your business. And I'm saying that starting something at 30 as a woman doesn't make me reckless or selfish or behind. It makes me someone who spent a decade figuring out what she actually wanted and then had the guts to go and do it.

If you're a woman reading this and you've heard the "but what about kids" line from someone who was supposed to be supporting you, I see you. It stings. It's meant to. And the best response is to keep building anyway.

I'm not writing this because I'm angry. Well, maybe a little... (yes, I’m fired up). But mostly I'm writing this because I know there are people reading this who are thinking about starting something. Or who just started something. Or who started something six months ago and are already hearing the "how long are you going to give it" questions from people at dinner.

And I want you to know that the noise is normal. The doubt from other people is normal. The raised eyebrows and the "but what about super" conversations are normal. They don't stop. You just get better at not letting them in.

You don't need everyone to understand what you're doing. You just need to understand what you're doing. And if the thing you're building feels right, if it keeps you up at night in a way that feels like excitement not dread, if you can't stop thinking about it even when you're trying to watch TV or have a conversation about literally anything else, then you're probably on the right track.

The annual leave will sort itself out. The sick leave will sort itself out. The super will sort itself out. Because when it's your thing, you figure it out. You always figure it out.

50 tabs open. Still no annual leave. Still no sick days. Still wouldn't change a thing.

If you're building something right now, keep going. And if someone at your next barbecue tells you they "could never…", just smile and think, yeah… I know you couldn't. That's why I'm the one doing it.

T x