Motherland in Adland: Gayle Catlin

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

This edition of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – hands the microphone to Gayle Catlin, client services director at creative studio, Ourselves.

Gayle recounts how she once thrived in corporate life; but after becoming a mother, she realised all the ways it penalises parents. She experienced temporary respite during the national lockdown, but that dissipated once businesses began clawing back former practices. Looking back on the experience, a stint as a freelancer, and now working remotely at Ourselves, Gayle questions: can parents really have it all?

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Before I had my first child, I lived and breathed corporate life. Long hours, endless meetings, and a calendar that didn’t understand the word boundaries. I gave everything to my job — the hours, the blood, the sweat, and the occasional tear. That’s just what you did. And honestly? I loved it.

I used to look at colleagues who were parents and marvel – how on earth were they doing it? Never missing a meeting, somehow seemingly juggling home life and office chaos without breaking a sweat. I figured they must have discovered the secret formula. Maybe you really could have it all.

Then came baby number one. Cue dramatic music.

The juggle was real. Coming back from maternity leave wasn’t exactly facilitated with a soft landing – and it wasn't just me, women were often tossed into ‘opportunity’ roles that were really just problems in disguise. Add a restructure (or three), expanded remits and a dash of imposter syndrome, and you’ve got quite the cocktail to return to.

Flexibility was a foreign concept back then. So there I was — at my desk by 8am in a near empty office, trying to prove myself because I had to dash out at 4:30 for nursery pick-up. Never mind that I’d closed my laptop at midnight the night before. Apparently, productivity didn’t count unless someone saw you doing it.

Then along came baby number two… and a global pandemic.

Suddenly, London life gave way to countryside calm. Or so I thought. When the world reopened, reality hit fast – my husband needed to be up north two days a week, I needed to be in London two days a week, and life became a relentless relay race of childcare handovers and “Did you remember to pack the…” conversations. We were ships passing in the night, both running on caffeine and chaos. Choosing not to live in the city had its own juggles, beyond the commute, including limited child care options, with much shorter hours than we were used to in a city.

One day, my husband said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

And honestly, neither could I.

So I quit. No grand plan. No safety net. Just the knowledge that something needed to change to make life work for us and our family.

Freelancing came next – and if you’ve ever freelanced, you know it’s equal parts freedom and fear. I was lucky to find work quickly, and loved the flexibility: school runs, playdates, kids’ activities – all now doable. But something was missing. The buzz. The camaraderie. The sense of belonging to a team of brilliant, like-minded people all chasing the same goal. A sense of achieving and growing rather than just picking up whatever came my way to keep the cash coming in.

Enter Ourselves.

To say I landed on my feet is an understatement. I found a team of amazingly talented people who get it. We work remotely, we trust each other completely, and we deliver our best because we want to — not because someone’s clocking our hours. Whether it’s jumping on your surfboard because that’s where your best ideas happen or a parents’ evening at 2pm (anyone else?), flexibility isn’t a perk here – it’s the foundation.

So… can you have it all? Probably not. Something always has to give. But Ourselves have given me a lifeline to regain purpose, trust, and balance – maybe that’s everything that really matters.