Motherland in Adland: Davitha Tiller

Motherhood in advertising has long been an unspoken challenge – a career-defining crossroads where ambition is too often questioned, and support systems fall short. And while the industry has made progress in acknowledging the realities of working parents, tangible change is still slow, leaving many mothers to navigate the journey alone.

In this instalment of Motherland in Adland – the series founded by NERD’s Milana Karaica in partnership with LBB – we hear from Davitha Tiller, head of social and integrated communication at Havas.

Davitha shares her experience of becoming a single mother while leading in one of the industry’s most demanding sectors – with no family nearby, no fallback, and a young son relying on her. What followed was a journey of emotional extremes: fear, liberation, exhaustion, growth. And, ultimately, pride.

From the challenges of raising a child alone in New York City to the structural support of working under strong female leadership, Davitha’s story is one of extraordinary resilience – and a powerful reminder that motherhood, in all its forms, can shape more empathetic, grounded leaders.

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IT WASN’T THE PLAN, BUT IT’S MY PATH.

I will never forget my first official day as a single working mom.

I was standing in the kitchen of the apartment my 11-month-old son and I had just moved into following my difficult separation from his father. After a long day of meetings, pitching and thinking; I had put him to bed, and now it was time to make myself dinner. But before I could so much as reach for a pan, a wave of emotion hit me – an overwhelming cocktail of debilitating fear and exhilarating relief.

There was the fear of the road ahead. The relentless logistics. The loneliness. The unknown. And at the same time, there was this liberating sense of reclaiming control – of knowing that, for better or worse, I was back in the driver’s seat of my own life.

How am I going to do all of this?

The sleepless nights. The childcare arrangements. The all-day meetings. The after-work mom mode. The after-mom-mode work mode. The co-parenting conflicts. The tiredness. The confronting reality of knowing that you’re staring at your greatest support system in the mirror.

And yet – alongside all that – came the longing to be the best mom I could possibly be. To stay healthy, strong and active. To nurture friendships. To make new mom friends. To help my son make his first friends. To sign him up for extracurriculars. To travel the world for work and for fun. To eventually, maybe, date again.

Being an expat single mom in a place like New York City, with no family nearby and a sole custody parenting arrangement, while working a demanding leadership job in our fast-paced industry, is its own level of hard. And being a stubborn Taurean who doesn’t easily accept help certainly didn’t… well, help.

The non-stop nature of it all was terrifying. And, honestly, some days it still is. But even in the darkest moments, I held onto one belief: that eventually, it would get easier. And it did.

To my own surprise, I wouldn’t change a thing about my journey.

Because what I’ve learned is this: just like writing, or riding a bike, once you get the hang of single working mom life, it becomes second nature. And in doing so, it reveals a level of vulnerability and resilience you might never have known you had.

I’ve always been a creature of habit, someone who believes that structure is the antidote to chaos. So I approached life with my son like a military mission – building a daily rhythm so reliable, both he and I could follow it with our eyes closed. That structure became my lifeline. It still carries us through.

And through it all – just as research so often shows about children raised by single mothers – my son has become the most loving, flexible, perceptive, and emotionally intelligent little man. He lights up my life every single day, and together, we make a pretty great team.

And speaking of teams; I am immensely grateful to work for an agency with a strong female leader at the global helm, where offering people the flexibility and support to navigate their personal circumstances isn’t an exception – but the cultural norm.

Over the years, I’ve come to wear my “single mom” title not as a burden, but as a badge of honour.

It wasn’t the plan, but it is my path. It has made me who I am.
And today, I can finally say it:
I’m proud of her