My Ph.D. Story- I

Some of my earliest memories involve my young aunt reading me books about cells, DNA, or microorganisms. She was studying to become a biology teacher, and I was her first-ever student. We observed nature together and performed small experiments that fueled my curiosity. One day, when a teacher asked, I declared to a classroom full of 12-year-olds that when I grew up, I would be a scientist—a geneticist, to be specific. I spent my high school years with a single-minded focus on my goal, and soon enough it became part of my identity. You could ask anybody who knew me, and they would tell you about Fatma, the future scientist. So, when I graduated from my dream college with a B.Sc. degree in Molecular Biology and Genetics, nobody was surprised. They were, however, taken aback when I got married weeks before my graduation and moved to the U.S. with my husband.

I decided to pursue a Ph.D. as I had fallen in love with the joy of scientific discovery and laboratory research during my undergraduate years. Ultimately, I decided to apply for the Ph.D. programs while gaining valuable experience volunteering as a trainee in a research laboratory. I clearly remember the day I finished all my applications: it was the day I found out I was going to have a baby. And just like that, my unique Ph.D. journey began.

I did not tell anybody about my situation during the Ph.D. interviews. I was scared that it would overshadow everything else that I had worked hard for and influence what people would think of me. During one particular interview, however, a faculty casually mentioned their successful Ph.D. student who had a baby during graduate school. I remember feeling immense relief. Years later, while I introduced my son to this faculty member, I told them how their little remark made me believe I could pursue my Ph.D. here.

My son was born a month before the orientation week for my Ph.D. program. For the first time in my life, I questioned my dreams as I held him in my arms and imagined leaving to go to the lab. In a serendipitous turn of events, my visa process got delayed, and I deferred my start date to the next semester. Although I missed my cohort, and my schedules and milestones got a lot more complicated, in the end, I was thankful to have those six months with my new love. My husband and I relied on each other in a foreign country with no support system or financial means to afford childcare. He started a job where he could work from home and look after our baby, and I started my Ph.D.

I do not remember much from my first year. It was all a haze between running home to feed my baby every couple of hours and running back to the lab to finish an experiment. I did not socialize with my cohort, did not eat lunch, or have coffee breaks when I was in the lab. Instead, I would desperately compare my hours spent in the lab to friends who could stay up late into the night. I felt awful. I would compare the time I spent with my baby to stay-at-home mom friends and, again, feel terrible. There was no winning, and I did not belong anywhere. Looking back, I wish I had more self-compassion and confidence in my abilities.

My research focused heavily on mouse genetics, specifically the molecular underpinnings of neurological diseases pertaining to the role of myelin, the lipid-rich membrane of neuronal axons that is essential for nervous system function. I loved working with mice and would often stop to observe mother mice caring for their pups, missing my baby back home. This habit would prove helpful in the following years, as I would quickly notice potential motor or behavioral phenotypes in my experimental mice. I valued my work of generating novel mouse models, which enabled the study of neurological diseases (such as multiple sclerosis) for which we currently have no cure. I would come home and tell my young son all about my mice. I also often read to him—not just books for kids, but also scientific articles as I prepared for journal club presentations. It was a unique form of science communication for me. I had to make it simple but engaging for him to understand, making me think about my science from different perspectives. These conversations helped me formulate my first elevator pitch, which ended up winning first place in my graduate school competition.

Despite occasional awkward interactions with peers and mentors, I became increasingly more open about being a mother. I was well aware of the stereotypes I could be associated with as a Muslim woman, so I chose to tell my own story. When I mentored junior students, I told them about my journey, ensuring that they knew there were many different ways to pursue a Ph.D. I questioned the occasional conversations that seemingly praised a non-existing work-life balance for succeeding in science. When I had to present to the department, and my babysitter fell through, I took my son with me, and my boss took care of him while I gave my talk. During the COVID-19 lockdown, my son inevitably Zoom-bombed my meetings and made small talk with world-renowned scientists. While volunteering as a senior student during interview weeks or orientations, I talked about accommodations for families and kids, as I knew there could be students who could use the little remark that helped me years ago.

Slowly but surely, I realized how being a young mother helped me acquire unique skills. I had to efficiently plan my tasks to maximize my time with my family while ensuring adequate progress toward my Ph.D. My self-value was not as heavily dependent on my academic success anymore. I could go home after a failed experiment, and seeing my little boy would shift my tired brain into a different gear, ready to be loved unconditionally. I had to let go of things that were not in my control and work hard to focus on my unique Ph.D. journey, no matter how different it looked from others. My goals in life became more flexible and adaptable. My passion for science and learning, however, has only grown. I recently defended my Ph.D. on the 7th birthday of my son, and he was among the audience listening to his mother finish what we started together.

Sumbul Jawed Khan is the Assistant Editor-in-Chief at Club SciWri. She received her Ph. D. from the Indian Institute of Technology Kanpur and did her post-doctoral research at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. She is committed to science outreach activities and believes it is essential to inspire young people to apply scientific methods to tackle the challenges faced by humanity. As an editor, she aims to simplify, translate, and excite people about current advances in science.

The contents of Club SciWri are the copyright of Ph.D. Career Support Group (DBA STEMPeers) for STEM trainees, experts, and professionals. This work by Club SciWriis licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.