The Sandwich I Didn’t Order
It's been a tumultuous few weeks. I'm picking up the pieces.
I'm writing this from my happy place: a dear friend's log cabin in the woods. The setting is the same as always. The reason I'm here is not.
I'm here as a caregiver. A friend of mine has lost the ability to live independently, and with no family able to step in, I did what felt like the only thing I could do: I put on my friend superhero outfit and showed up. And I will stay until a more permanent solution can be found.
This is happening at the same time as having my daughter and my toddler grandson move in with me.
But showing up for both my daughter and my friend has meant something had to give somewhere else. And it was my work, my business, my newsletters, my commitments to you, that got sacrificed. That continues to get sacrificed.
And I'll be honest: the guilt of that has been sitting heavy.
Here's the thing I've been sitting with out here in the woods: what I'm living right now has a name. It's called the sandwich generation. It’s that group of adults who find themselves simultaneously caring for aging or vulnerable people in their lives and managing responsibilities to their own families. Squeezed from both sides, with their own lives and careers somewhere in the middle.
The numbers on both sides of the border tell the same story.
In Canada, approximately 2.5 million people (about 28% of adults aged 35 to 64) are in the sandwich generation. Statistics Canada puts the number of active sandwich caregivers at 1.8 million, representing 13% of all Canadians providing unpaid care. In the United States, the picture is just as wide: around 16 million Americans are sandwiched at any given time, with roughly a quarter of all U.S. adults providing some form of unpaid care.
The "sandwich" is most associated with Gen X, those of us in our 40s and 50s, and for good reason. Nearly half of adults in that age group have an aging parent who needs support while simultaneously raising children or financially supporting adult kids. But the sandwich is spreading. Millennials are stepping into it too, as the oldest among them move into their late 30s and 40s and their Baby Boomer parents need more support.
What makes it particularly brutal is how unexpected it tends to be. 60% of sandwich generation caregivers say they weren't expecting to be providing this level of support to aging loved ones at this point in their lives. We make our plans, and then life hands us a different set of obligations.
The Real Cost of Being Needed
The numbers behind sandwich caregiving are staggering, and they paint a picture that anyone living it will recognize immediately.
On average, sandwiched adults spend around $10,000 and 1,350 hours per year managing care across both generations. That's not a side task. That's a second life running parallel to your actual one.
The emotional toll compounds everything:
86% of sandwich caregivers report emotional exhaustion, up from 79% just three years ago
80% report physical exhaustion, up from 71%
69% feel financially drained, up from 64%
Canadian data mirrors this closely. Statistics Canada found that 86% of Canadian sandwich caregivers said their responsibilities affected at least one aspect of their health and well-being, significantly higher than the 74% of caregivers looking after adults only, or the 62% caring only for children. The squeeze quite literally affects your health more than either caregiving role would on its own.
And the weight of it keeps growing. Canada's population is aging fast. In 2003, 12.8% of Canadians were 65 or older; by 2023 that figure had risen to 18.9%, and by 2031 nearly one in four Canadians is projected to be 65 or older. The sandwich generation isn't shrinking. It's expanding, year by year.
What It Does to Your Career
For those of us who work, especially those who run our own businesses, the career cost is real, constant, and largely invisible to the outside world.
In Canada, a 2024 Statistics Canada study found that over 30% of sandwich caregivers had to adjust their work schedules to manage their responsibilities, 11% gave up career opportunities outright, and 6% lost or were forced to leave their job entirely in a single year. A 2024 Ipsos poll went further, finding that two-thirds of Canadian sandwich generation members believe caregiving will impact their career progression, and three in four expect it will affect their working hours.
The American numbers are just as stark. More than half of sandwiched individuals say they've had to choose between their job and their caregiving responsibilities, more than double the rate among the general adult population. Over half of sandwich generation moms have left a job entirely because of caregiving demands. And 37% are afraid to even bring up their caregiving responsibilities at work, quietly burning through vacation days to cover what is, in reality, a caregiving crisis.
I get it. I'm living it. Just as many of you are also living it. And learning first hand how it weighs you down.
What Gets Pushed Down the List
The longer-term consequences are quieter, but just as serious.
59% of sandwich generation members have reduced or stopped contributing to their retirement savings because the money is needed now, for a parent's care costs, a child's needs, or simply keeping everything afloat. Nearly half of those who feel sandwiched have delayed major life milestones such as homeownership or other significant decisions, because caregiving took priority.
The costs of elder care alone are enough to reshape a family's finances. In Canada, nearly a third of sandwich generation members are committed to keeping their aging parents out of long-term care facilities, but over half of those same people worry they won't be able to follow through on that commitment. In the U.S., in-home care averages around $6,000 USD a month. Assisted living runs about $5,500. Around-the-clock nursing care can reach $9,000–$10,000 monthly. These aren't abstract numbers. They land in real budgets and real decisions about what has to wait.
On Guilt and Grace
I started this newsletter with guilt. I owe you honesty about that.
Running a business while being someone's caregiver, especially when that caregiving wasn't in the plan, is a negotiation that never quite resolves. You're always giving something to one side that the other side needs. There is no version where you come out feeling like you did enough everywhere.
What I'm trying to give myself, and what I'd offer to anyone else living this, is a measure of grace. The sandwich generation isn't struggling because they're failing to manage their time or prioritize well enough. They're struggling because they're carrying something genuinely heavy. Something that is, statistically and experientially, one of the harder loads a person can carry regardless of which side of the border you live on.
I showed up for my friend because nobody else could. My work suffered because of it. Both of those things are true, and neither one cancels out the other.
The good news is that I did find a way to bring some lightness into the weight of responsibility. And that goodness has come in the form of birds.
In a former life I studied bats. Until now, I identified birds as either big birds, little birds or owls. But seeing as I’m in the woods near a pond and a meadow, I did the unthinkable (for me…). I downloaded an app called Merlin. It lets you identify bird songs and pictures of birds. So my little bird category has expanded to yellow birds, some type of sparrow bird, and cedar waxwings.
Does it change the fact that I feel overwhelmed? Not in the least. But it does bring beauty and calm into the day. And that is all I can ask. Some positive to balance the guilt and frustration of dropping the ball on my own life.
I'm back at the keyboard now. Still in the woods. Still caregiving. But here, writing to you, which means something, even if this one came later than it should have.
Thank you for your patience. And if you're living any version of this yourself: you're not alone, you're not failing, and the fact that you showed up for someone who needed you matters more than you know.
And one final note. I may have been distracted away from writing newsletters, but I have been working on an exciting project that I will fully introduce to you shortly. Stay tuned!
With love from the cabin,
Dr. Jenna
If this resonated, forward it to someone who might need to hear it. The sandwich generation is large — chances are someone in your circle is living it quietly.
