Aside from a little 6 month pocket in 2019, I have been pregnant or breastfeeding for almost five years.

In the exact opposite of serendipitous timing, I left my full-time role just a few months before falling pregnant with my first child – so even before the responsibilities of child-rearing, I was a full-time part-timer.

What’s that? In an increasingly unstable job climate, it’s a position many women, and particularly Millennial and Gen Z women, find themselves in (55% of workers with two or more jobs are under 35). In the absence of reliable full-time work, we piece together part-time, casual, and contract jobs to form the equivalent of a full-time job (if we’re lucky). But what I found – like so many others – was that often my part-time parts formed a whole that equated to well over 40 hours.

And that’s before you add in the unpaid labour of caring for children, which is a full-time job in itself.

At the start of this year, my youngest started daycare a few days a week. I had the privilege of being able to take a decent amount of maternity leave, and then opt to start back at work in a part-time role. I didn’t feel ready to come back full time – though so many don’t have a choice.

Working part-time seemed like the perfect solution. I could keep my foot in the door of the workforce, which is a huge part of my identity, as well as ensuring I continued to earn superannuation and develop my skills for my re-entry to full-time work…one day. And I could be present for the precious early years of my childrens’ lives. Win/win, right?

Well, aside from the hit to my hip pocket. To stop the gap, I picked up some casual teaching work and took on a few freelance projects. It wasn’t quite the equivalent of the extra two days work, but doing it around my part-time work hours and childcare meant alarms at 5am and dates with my laptop at 10pm. My life admin seemed to triple as each job required emails, paperwork, team meetings, and phone calls. And being someone who prides themselves on doing good work, I’d try to do a little above and beyond for each role.

The result? I was exhausted, time-poor, and snappy. I spent my lunch breaks attached to a breast pump, felt constantly overwhelmed, and was always mentally in two places at once. Checking my email while I pushed a swing at the park. Planning classes while I drove. Writing a story in my head while I showered.

A friend of mine is in the same boat. Catching up at the playground recently she told me she’d picked up a few night shifts to make ends meet. That’s on top of her casual day job, and after she’s spent a day caring for her kids. She tucks them into bed, prepares the next day’s lunchboxes, and starts her second job at 8pm. “I can’t work full-time until my youngest starts school”, she says. When I ask how many hours she did last week, she pauses for a moment to calculate. “42?”

The Australian Council of Trade Unions reports that there are now 867,900 Australians working multiple jobs – “the highest number since the ABS began tracking secondary jobs in 1994.” There are also a record number of Australians working three or more jobs, despite the ACTU reporting that “workers who do multiple jobs still earn 17.5% less than the national average – usually people just working one job.”

“Women working multiple jobs are significantly worse off than men earning almost $10,000 less per year than their male counterparts. 53.7% of multiple jobs holders are women”, the report adds.

When I was recently offered a full-time role, I dismissed it almost immediately. Sure, I’d love to streamline my work – and I genuinely love what I do. But with two kids not yet in school, and my capacity already at breaking point, it seemed impossible. I had nothing left in the tank.

I asked if I could revisit the idea in the new year. But patience isn’t my strong point, and the seed had been planted. The idea rattled around in my brain for a week or two, as I considered how I’d actually make it work. And I began to realise - thanks to the culture shift of the last couple of years - that the wonders of remote work and the benefit of a flexible and accommodating employer, might mean I actually could.

As I signed my contract I wondered if I was making a huge mistake, overcommitting myself and neglecting my family.

But the reality has been the opposite. I hadn’t realised how mentally draining the full-time part-time hustle had been, until it stopped. I feel more secure. My anxiety has dissipated. And there are other surprising boons – like being able to predict my monthly income, not having to worry about miscalculating my tax, and tapping out of the stream of group chats for various workplaces. My calendar is calmer, as is my parenting.

It has to be said, of course, that I’m very (very) lucky. Not everyone has the option to work from home, or to set their own hours, and if I didn’t have them, then I couldn’t work full-time. No question. But the incredible relief I feel, now that I’ve made the switch, just proves how necessary these measures are if we want to end the gender pay gap.

Although my work hours have technically increased slightly, somehow, it doesn’t feel like it.

“One thing at a time!” I tell my kids as they raid the snack cupboard. I wonder why I didn’t take my own advice earlier.