For five years, my parents told people I was the Harper family’s cautionary tale—the daughter who had abandoned Boston, run off to California, and never quite figured her life out. What they didn’t know was that while they were quietly mourning my “failure,” I was quietly building a health-tech company that would eventually be valued at $340 million.

Three months later, I returned to Boston for the opening of our East Coast office. This time my parents sat in the front row while I gave remarks about interoperability, patient safety, expansion, and vision. When I finished, my mother hugged me in front of reporters and said, with unmistakable admiration, “You are a natural leader.” My father asked real questions over dinner that night—about Europe, Asia, and international growth. My mother asked something even more surprising: “What is next for you personally?”

That small question undid me a little, because it was the first time she had ever asked about my life as if it existed beyond achievement.

“Balance,” I told her. “I think I’m finally learning that building something meaningful professionally doesn’t have to mean abandoning the rest of my life.”