Mother of 3 Started Masters Program in 30s, Now Working on Doctorate

At 35, I went back to school. On paper, it was my second master’s degree, a step toward getting my doctorate in public policy. In reality, it was a much deeper decision.

I’m a mother of three, including twin boys, and while my family was — and always will be — my top priority, I felt a growing need to do something for myself. So I did.

I was busy in my 20s

I got married young (23) while finishing the last semester of my MBA. I wanted to start a family right away, and within a year, my elder son was born. Becoming a mother brought me immense joy, and I embraced the new rhythm of marriage and motherhood wholeheartedly.

Even then, a part of me wanted to keep working, not in a rigid 9-to-5 setting, but in a way that felt meaningful and flexible. I had always been a keen and competitive student, often topping my class, but I was never drawn to the monotony of traditional office life. So I found ways to stay professionally active through freelance work. It gave me a sense of purpose and productivity, though over time, those projects started to feel more like placeholders than a true reflection of my potential.

I craved a challenge

A few years later, when my twins arrived and I found myself raising three young boys, I still felt the need to stay mentally engaged — to at least do something. I loved my kids dearly, they were, and still are, the sun around which everything in my life orbits. But I also craved the challenge and purpose that came with professional work.

That’s when I decided to pursue a second master’s. I already had a master’s degree, but I needed a stronger academic foundation to eventually begin a Ph.D. program. I had long wanted to teach at the graduate level, and I knew I needed to upgrade my qualifications and refresh my skills to get there.

I also knew this time around wouldn’t be like my university years in my twenties. After all, I was nearly 35, and my time and energy were already stretched between three kids and a full household. It had been over a decade since I’d studied formally, and I wasn’t sure if I still had the mental stamina for exams, papers, and deadlines. But I was willing to try and I knew I had to, for myself.

I started slow

Convincing my family of my plans took some time. My husband wasn’t exactly thrilled at first, and my boys were understandably puzzled. “Why would Mom go back to school? Isn’t she already finished?” they asked. I told them that this is something I need to do. I hoped they would understand and support me and that together, we’d figure it out.

To keep things manageable, I enrolled in just a few courses each semester. Progress was slow, but steady. I was determined not only to complete the degree but to maintain the academic standards I’d always set for myself.

Eventually, my husband and kids adapted. Study time became part of our family routine. They learned to respect my “class hours” and even started their own “homework stations” next to mine.

My husband, though still not entirely enthusiastic, quietly — well, not always quietly — made space for my ambitions. On nights when I have classes, he manages the kids and handles dinner.

My family adapted

As the semesters passed, something remarkable happened. My boys’ understanding of what I was doing deepened. They no longer saw school as something just for kids or a phase you eventually finish. They began asking thoughtful questions about my courses, my grades, and my future plans.

Their perspective on family roles also began to shift. They saw that while I was their mother first, I was also a person with my own goals. They understood that ambition and nurturing could coexist.

I started noticing small but meaningful changes. They took more responsibility at home. They celebrated my achievements just as I celebrated theirs. And they talked about their own dreams with more confidence, now understanding that ambition isn’t something to be postponed.

I didn’t return to school to set an example. I returned because I needed to. But if my journey has helped my children see that learning never stops, and that every person’s goals matter, then that’s a lesson I’m proud to have shared — not through words, but by living it.