Working Moms Ft. Qurat ul ann Waqas

This conversation is one of those that stays with you long after it ends. I sit down with Qurat ul ann, an architectural engineer who runs her own design firm, AQS Design, and we talk about what it really takes to build a career and a family at the same time. No filters, no glossy advice. Just the honest, messy, beautiful middle of being a working mom in Pakistan.

Qurat grew up in Pind Dadan Khan, a small town in district Jhelum. She is the eldest of six siblings. Her father could not study beyond the eighth grade because he had to take over the family business after his own father passed away. That unfinished dream became the fuel for everything he did next. He decided that every single one of his children would get an education, and each would study something different. Qurat became an architectural engineer, her sister a chartered accountant, another a nutritionist, and her brothers software engineers. That one decision, made by a father who never got to finish school, changed the entire trajectory of their lives.

The small town girl who dared to dream bigger

Moving from a small town to Lahore for college was a shock. Qurat remembers the girls in her college in Defence, all modern and confident, while she struggled with English. She laughs now, recalling how her English teacher would pronounce “curly” as “kurali.” Those small moments could have planted deep insecurities. And for a while, they did. She felt out of place, even a little depressed. But she found her footing the way so many of us do: through her work. She started scoring well in exams, teachers began to highlight her, and slowly, friends followed. She says, “I made my place through my studies.” That quiet determination became her anchor.

Her father never once made her feel that being a girl meant a limited future. When her rishta was being discussed, he told her in-laws one thing clearly: “I want my daughter to work after marriage.” In a society where many still believe daughters don’t need careers, this was radical. Qurat says, “He was always planning ahead. Even in his diary, he had calculated the expenses for building an extra storey on our house. He couldn’t build it, but the planning was all there.” That forward-thinking mindset, that refusal to let his daughters be dependent, is a gift she carries every day.

Finding architecture and the power of a skill

Qurat knew early on that she did not want to be a doctor. Blood and needles were not her thing. But she was good at maths, so engineering felt right. Then she discovered architecture, and something clicked. She says, “I wanted to create something, to look at it and say, yes, I made this.” That desire to produce, to build, led her to UET Lahore, one of the country’s best engineering universities. Her father was thrilled, partly because her uncle had studied there decades earlier, and partly because he understood something crucial: architecture is a skill-based profession. He told her, “Even if you don’t do a job, you have a skill you can use from home.”

That advice turned out to be prophetic. After graduating in 2012, she started working, earning a salary of 14,000 rupees while her pick-and-drop cost 16,000. Her father told her not to look at the money, just gain experience. She did. She later completed a master’s in building engineering, got married, and moved to Sargodha. Her husband, she says, was the kind of partner who not only supported her studies but also encouraged her to think bigger. One day he said, “You can do something on your own. Why don’t you start your own company?”

Marriage, a move, and the push to start something of her own

Starting AQS Design in 2018 was terrifying. Qurat remembers the hesitation, the fear of handling clients alone. In the early days, she would take a watchman with her to meetings. But her husband kept pushing, gently. He believed in her name, in building something they could pass on to the next generation. So they found a small office, she began marketing through her university network and social media, and slowly, projects came. Her first big break was a corporate renovation project for Philip Morris International, referred by a junior from university who specifically wanted to support a woman-led business.

That project was a trial by fire. She had to manage labour in Mianwali and Sahiwal, navigate strict safety standards, and deliver on a tight deadline. She recalls nights on site until 11 or 12, making sure everything was perfect. Her husband would drive her to visits when no driver was available, and her father accompanied her to the Sahiwal site. She says, “I delivered that project on time, exactly as I had shown them in the 3D designs.” That success gave her the confidence to take on more, but it also taught her to set boundaries. She eventually limited her services to design only, because execution was too demanding to sustain alone.

Motherhood, mom guilt, and the messy middle

When Qurat and her husband decided to have a baby, she was already running her company. She knew she couldn’t stop working entirely, so she planned. She modified her son’s routine so he would sleep late and she could take him to the office in the morning, letting him nap there while she handled meetings. She packed his meals, set up a play area, and coordinated everything. She says, “Mom guilt is very real. It happened every night.” She would see other children sleeping on time and worry about his growth. But she also knew that staying busy helped her mental health. The isolation of early motherhood, the endless cycle of feeding and napping, was harder for her than juggling work. She says, “When you have something else to do, your mind is diverted. That saved me.”

Her husband remained her biggest support, taking over when she needed to attend meetings, and never making her feel guilty for working. When her daughter arrived, the challenges shifted. Now she had a toddler who didn’t want to share his mother. She remembers the phase when he would say, “Mama is bad,” because he was angry she was holding the baby. But they worked through it, and now he understands when she has a meeting. He even tells his grandmother, “Mama office ja rahi hai.”

What I’ve learned about balancing it all

Qurat is clear about one thing: financial independence changes the respect a woman receives. She says, “When a woman is financially independent, the level of respect is different.” But she also acknowledges that housewives deserve the same respect, even if society often fails to give it. The small, invisible labour of running a home is rarely acknowledged. She believes every woman should have a skill she can fall back on, something she can do from home if needed. “Skill-based education is very important for every woman,” she says. “Even if you never need it, you have something that is yours.”

She also talks about the trap of comparison. Mom guilt often comes from measuring ourselves against others. She learned to stop. “Every child is different, every parent’s routine is different. You have to find what works for you.” That, and the constant reminder that balance is not about perfection. Some days the work suffers, some days the kids get less attention. But as long as you are doing your best, that is enough.

This conversation matters because it shows a real, unfiltered picture of what it means to be a working mom in a society that often expects women to choose. Qurat didn’t choose. She built a business, raised two children, and leaned on the support of a father who believed in her and a husband who refused to let her shrink. She reminds us that the small things, like modifying a baby’s sleep schedule or taking a watchman to a meeting, are what make the big things possible. And that mom guilt, while heavy, does not have to define your journey. You are allowed to want both.