Courage doesn't show up without something to fear.
This week, I’m saying goodbye to a great job at a company I loved. After nearly nine years, today is my last day at Pinterest.
We’ve all heard the advice: “Don’t quit your day job.” And now I get why.
It’s easier to keep doing what you’re already good at than to step into the unknown. But just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you’re meant to do it forever.
For nearly a decade, I climbed the corporate ladder, chased the next title, and tackled the next challenge. Then I realized - I didn’t want the next promotion.
I wanted more.
More purpose. More impact. More alignment with the values that matter most to me - especially now, with two daughters watching and learning from the choices I make.
I’ve long been passionate about fixing the “broken rung” and helping more women rise into leadership.
In the wake of so much societal change, that passion has transformed into a calling to build a better future for women, especially moms.
Pinterest was an incredible part of my journey.
After business school, I joined what was then a 700-person “startup” and spent nearly a decade learning and growing on the monetization product team. I worked with brilliant, kind people and tackled hard, meaningful problems.
I watched the company go through major transitions: going public, shifting to remote work, welcoming a new CEO, and scaling revenue 10x. Personally, I went through my own transformations - I got married, became a manager and a mom (twice!), worked with 12 (all male!) managers, and was promoted five times.
I’m profoundly grateful for my experience, and I’ll be writing about the many lessons I learned - stay tuned!
But I also know I’m ready for a different kind of impact. One that feels more personal, more sustainable, and more aligned with this chapter of my life.
So I’m taking the leap and starting something new: building a company to support new moms.
I’m excited. And completely terrified.
The truth is, this idea has been living in me for a while.
During maternity leave with my second daughter, I was unexpectedly navigating postpartum depression.
Having two young kids was overwhelming, and for the first time, I started asking myself, “Can I really do both, be the mom I want to be and keep growing my career?”
When I returned to work, even though I’d done it before, imposter syndrome hit me hard. I eventually found my footing, but the path was anything but smooth and I faced waves of burnout along the way.
If I was struggling, despite all my resources, support, and privilege, how were other moms managing? I knew there had to be a better way.
So I started writing, talking to moms, gathering feedback, trying to validate my hypothesis.
Every conversation reinforced the same painful truth: returning to work after having a baby is incredibly challenging. And the most common advice? “It gets better with time.”
I refuse to accept that as our best solution.
I have a vision for what the future might look like, but I definitely don’t have it all figured out.
There’s no guaranteed outcome, and the timing is far from ideal. The economy is uncertain. AI is shifting the landscape. Layoffs are still happening.
Meanwhile, we’re in the thick of the most expensive years - two kids in full-time childcare, no family nearby. Walking away from a well-paid, remote role at a company I admire might seem irresponsible.
This wasn’t a decision I made lightly.
My husband (who’s also an entrepreneur) and I spent months talking it through. We ran worst-case scenarios, looked carefully at our savings and expenses, and had a lot of honest conversations about what we could really afford.
This wasn’t the original plan, but we worked through it together and created enough space for me to take the risk.
So yes, fear is here. It creeps in with the “what ifs” and the self-doubt, reminding me to stay where it’s safe.
But a mentor recently told me: “Fear is just excitement without breath.”
So I’m breathing. Because beneath the fear, there’s something stronger: conviction.
The kind that keeps me up at night, scribbling ideas. The kind that fills me with energy every time I hear a new mom’s experience and imagine what’s possible. The kind that tells me, despite the uncertainty, this is exactly what I’m meant to do.
I believe I can build something meaningful. Something that matters. Something that creates real impact for women and moms navigating the same challenges I’ve faced.
So I’m betting on myself. Giving myself this window to build, to explore, to chase the thing I can’t let go of.
I’m excited. I’m terrified. But more than anything, I’m ready.
Namaste,
Tamara
You’re my hero,Tamara! I have daydreams about doing what you’ve done!
Let’s have coffee in SF! I’m on a similar journey and currently in the churn of all-the-things after being finally untethered for about four months now.