Before 8 a.m., I Was Already a Whole Story

Women Connect- A Nexus Maine community (coffee networking meetup). 7:45 a.m.

By the time I walked in, I’d already checked my email, gotten a workout in, answered a call from the bus company (they found Dorian’s baseball cleats—thank you, universe), called the school to coordinate the cleat drop-off and confirmed the new location for baseball practice.

All before coffee. In a room full of women.

And the best part? After I recapped my morning marathon, the woman next to me said, “Ditto.” Except her version included multiple kids, a husband prepping for a big meeting, and a schedule that made mine look almost restful.

That moment stuck with me. Because in that casual, caffeine-fueled exchange, the theme of the whole Startup Maine week crystallized: women need to support each other and create space to process the absolutely heroic lives we lead—the visible and the invisible work, the ambition and the exhaustion, the striving and the caretaking.

Even when we’re “away” at a conference, we’re still doing the mental load shuffle. Coordinating. Managing. Holding it all together.

And to sit across from someone who not only sees me, but gets it? That’s powerful. She’s living it too. These women have big dreams—for their companies, their careers, their families—and they make every hour count. When I’m around them, I don’t feel like slowing down. I feel like finding one more gear. That’s the kind of inspiration we need in our lives.

But there was another conversation that landed just as deeply, though in a quieter, more reflective way.

We were talking about balance, and a woman said something that stopped me: “No one is talking about getting older. Once I turned 50, I started to become invisible.”

Not just to men. To other women. “You just sort of slip into the shadows,” she said. “Quietly pushed out.”

I had to sit with that one. I’ve been in the room for a lot of discussions about juggling work and toddlers, business growth and breastfeeding, maternity leave and momentum. I remember those days—and I’m grateful to be in a different phase now. My son’s older. I’m not chasing nap schedules anymore. I have a little more freedom.

But yeah… where is the conversation about what happens after 50?

I laughed—nervously—and said, “I don’t know what I’ll do when my son goes to college. I feel like I’ve been in his shadow his whole life.”

It was meant to be funny, but there’s some truth in that shadow. I don’t want to disappear when he spreads his wings. I want to start imagining what’s next, on purpose. I want to start that conversation—with women who get it.

Because here’s the thing: women over 50 are not just still in the game, they’re power players.

And you know where that shows up in the most exciting way? In investing. Women are stepping into rooms we’ve historically been kept out of—like angel investing. Female investors are becoming more visible, more vocal, and more intentional. They’re backing companies with both capital and conviction. They’re choosing founders, building ecosystems, and showing the next generation what it looks like to lead from experience.

We need more of that. More women at the table. More models to look up to. More conversations that make room for where we’ve been and where we’re going.

Startup Maine reminded me that I’m not alone—and that we need more spaces for these honest, layered reflections. We need to talk about what comes after the child-raising hustle. About legacy, reinvention, financial power, and staying visible.

This week gave me hope. It gave me fuel. And it gave me the nudge to keep going—before 8 a.m. and long after.

And when I walked back into my house and saw the note—“Welcome Home. We missed you.”—I was reminded exactly why this work, this growth, this visibility matters. It’s not either/or. It’s all of it.

If any of this resonates with you—whether you’re navigating the in-between, thinking about what’s next, or simply craving real talk about what it means to lead as a woman today—reach out. Let’s start that conversation. We don’t need to figure it out alone.