Let’s talk about nannies
If they're crucial to our care teams, why are we whispering about them?
The first time my husband mentioned that his sister in Hong Kong had two nannies, I laughed out loud.
Two!
It sounded absurdly luxurious to my twenty-something self. We were young and in love, not yet engaged, making plans for our future together.
How we became a two-nanny household
A few years after moving to Hong Kong, I got pregnant with our first child. Like most expat families, we hired a helper—a live-in domestic worker, typically from the Philippines, Indonesia, or Sri Lanka. Hong Kong’s immigration policy made this straightforward and affordable.
When I got pregnant with our second child, I told my husband I wanted to take time off. But as we ran the numbers, the math was clear: it was economically more viable for us to hire a second helper than for me to leave my job to help with childcare.
Enter helper number two
We were incredibly fortunate. Over the years, we shared our home with two generations of one Philippine family—first a mother, then her daughter, then her daughter-in-law.
They became like aunties to our children—celebrating birthdays, comforting them when sick—but I never lost sight of the fact that this was their job, and our home was their workplace.
They had paydays and time off. They were supporting their own family members, saving money to build a house or send a child to college.
When everyone has help, no one whispers about it
In Hong Kong, having helpers was universal. Every single family at our kids’ school had at least one helper, if not several.
This created something valuable: a community of shared knowledge. Parents freely exchanged information about hiring, managing, and supporting their helpers. If your helper left, there were established systems and networks to help you find a replacement.
Challenges were discussed openly because everyone understood them.
But in America, only whispers
When I moved back to the U.S. and started my role as Lower School Head at a top Manhattan private school, I expected similar openness.
Instead, I found whispers.
And since I began supporting mothers in leadership, I’ve heard countless versions of this.
“Oh, I know I’m so lucky—first-world problem. We’re so fortunate to have this help. I know I shouldn’t be complaining, but…”
And then they share a significant, legitimate challenge they’re facing with this integral member of their care team.
The apology comes first. The problem comes second.
Relief washes over people when I mention that I had not one but two nannies in Hong Kong. It’s like I’ve given them permission to acknowledge that this part of their life exists.
Here’s what I think is happening
Daycare seems on the table for social discussion because, while it is expensive, it’s perceived as something accessible to most working parents.
But nannies?
Nannies seem like the purview of only a small, privileged subset. And in a culture where we’ve been socialized not to talk about money, and to downplay our resources if we have them, employing a nanny feels like something you should hide.
Why the silence is a problem
Of course, having a nanny isn’t accessible to every family, but for those who choose it, navigating this relationship raises real, complex questions:
What happens if the fit isn’t right?
How do you handle extended leaves or requests for loans?
How do you balance boundaries when someone else shares your home?
A fantastic nanny can be a tremendous asset to your family’s care team. But managing that relationship takes effort, skill, and energy. It means sharing your space with another person who’s there when you’re there, whose needs and boundaries must be respected alongside your family’s.
Care teams aren’t optional
If you’re going to sustain a leadership career, you need a care team. And for many families, a nanny is the linchpin that keeps everything running.
I have many friends who kept their nannies well past the age when their children needed full-time childcare. They kept them because the nanny handled crucial logistics: picking kids up, dropping them off, making dinner, doing laundry, and being the accessible adult when parents are in back-to-back meetings or on-site all day.
This is especially true for families where one or more parents work long, sometimes unpredictable hours as physicians, attorneys or executives—roles where your full-time responsibility is at a specific location. You need someone who can stay home when a child is sick. Someone who can shuttle kids across town. Someone who can be present when you physically cannot.
Yet social rules dictate that we keep this quiet, and even to feel guilty about it.
I don’t think that’s fair.
Who are you talking with?
If nannies are crucial members of our care teams, then we need to talk about them openly. We need to share our stories, our challenges, and our solutions. We need to talk about fair wages, clear contracts, and labor rights. Unlike in Hong Kong, where domestic work is tightly regulated, much of this work in the US happens under the table.
So here’s what I’m wondering:
Do you have a nanny? Did you use to? Am I right that there’s a stigma around discussing this in the US?
What’s your biggest challenge right now? How do you negotiate new terms when you have another child? What happens if you relocate? Have you ever had to fire someone who has a key to your house?
Where do you currently turn when issues arise? Do you have any great resources you could share with other leaders?
You can share in the comments if you’re comfortable, or reach out to me privately.
We need care teams. For many of us, that includes a nanny. Whispering about it helps no one.
🕊️
SAM
