Why I’ll Never “Return to Office”

In October 2017 I was back in the office having a very important meeting with my manager. My four-month-old daughter was in the care of a co-worker. That lasted about twenty minutes before she realized I was nowhere to be found and started screaming so loudly I could hear her from ten doors down.

That moment was clarifying.

Earlier that year, in June, I had given birth to my daughter, Emilia. I had what most Americans would call a generous maternity leave. I fully intended to return to work, find a nearby daycare, and settle into the rhythm so many families follow.

It took one daycare tour for me to realize I couldn’t do it.

At the same time, my mom had just retired and was planning her move to Arizona. She was the only person I felt completely comfortable leaving Emilia with. We are close — the kind of close where a move across the country feels like an amputation. The thought of her leaving, and me staying behind, felt impossible.

So there I was. Sitting in a private office with my manager, an HR team member, and my infant daughter.

Earlier that month I had taken a risk and submitted a request to work remotely. Our plan was simple in theory and terrifying in practice: follow my mom to Arizona. My husband would quit his job to care for Emilia full-time. I would work from home.

This was 2017.

Remote work wasn’t mainstream yet. I would be the first person on my U.S. team to go fully remote. But our company had global offices. We were already dialing into international meetings at odd hours. The infrastructure existed — it just wasn’t common.

My request was approved.

On January 27, 2018, Emilia and I boarded a flight from SeaTac to Phoenix. Jorge drove a moving truck packed with everything we owned. We didn’t know exactly what we were building — we just knew we were choosing our family first.

I haven’t worked in an office since.

Over the years I’ve had roles that required occasional travel. I’ve worked with teammates I’ve never met in person. Entire projects have been built through Slack threads and video calls. This is the era we live in.

And remote work is the reason for everything that followed.

It allowed us to move from state to state while we figured out where we wanted to plant roots. It gave us the flexibility to experiment with lifestyle instead of defaulting to geography. It eventually made our move to Mexico possible.

Remote work is not just a location change. It’s leverage.

When I think back to my early career, I remember the commute. The rigid schedule. The unspoken rule that productivity equaled physical presence. Eight hours in a chair whether the work took four or twelve. Time measured by badge swipes and fluorescent lighting.

I gained those hours back.

I gained mornings at home. Midday walks. Doctor’s appointments that didn’t require half a vacation day. I gained the ability to design my day around output instead of optics.

I also stopped getting sick every other month. Offices are a breeding ground for shared germs, recycled air, and exhaustion cycles. Removing myself from that environment changed my health in ways I didn’t expect.

And financially? The impact was significant.

No daily commuting costs. No professional wardrobe churn. No convenience spending because I was too tired to cook. Fewer impulse purchases tied to corporate life. Remote work quietly increased our margins.

Over time, those margins compounded.

The most important shift, though, wasn’t logistical or financial.

It was psychological.

I stopped tying my value to a building. I stopped believing I needed to be seen to be effective. I started evaluating work based on results, not residency.

That one request in 2017 reshaped the trajectory of my life.

If you are sitting in an office right now feeling the tension between the life you want and the structure you’re operating inside, I understand it deeply. I was there. I made the ask before it was popular. I built the case. I took the risk.

Remote work gave me the freedom to design our life intentionally.

It can do the same for you — if you’re willing to ask differently.