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The Working Mom Guilt

The Daily Inner Battle of a Working Mom

By Brandi CullinsPublished 4 years ago 6 min read
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Monday mornings usually go about the same each and every week. I start collecting my things and secretly try to put on my shoes before my toddler notices. He knows what this means; shoes are symbolic to him. When he catches on, he frantically starts trying to find his shoes. Shoes mean Mommy is about to leave; shoes mean a meltdown is coming. He thinks that if he also puts on his shoes, he will be able to go with me. This breaks me, every single morning, this breaks me. As I give him kisses and tell him goodbye, I can hear him start to cry as I walk out the door. I have come accustomed to redoing my makeup in my car. My eyes swollen from a mix of crying and sleep deprivation. I give myself the same pep talk every morning - you got this; you can do this.

Insert mom guilt: I work too much. I know this and I will be the first person to admit it. I always feel as though I come up just short of what the expectations of a mother are. Though being successful is one of my driving forces, the other half of that equation is being a mother. I LOVE being a mother. My children are one of the main reasons that I care so much about being successful. They push me every day to be the best possible person I can be. This also means that I am at a constant war with myself. I want to be a role model; I want my sons to see that it’s OK for a woman to work and that it’s OK for a woman to be the breadwinner. I also want them not to feel that I love them less because I choose to go to work instead of staying at home with them. I want them to know that I love them more than I love anything else in the world; but to be the best I can be, I have to love myself too. I have to have a purpose outside of being a mother and I have to reach my goals so I can be the best version of myself for them.

I have always been a motivated woman. I have always wanted to have a successful career. I am pretty sure that even if I won the lottery tomorrow, I would still work because I have a need to feel accomplished. Being a working mom has its benefits and it definitely has its challenges. I work very long hours, typically leaving early in the morning and coming home later in the evening. I’m proud of my accomplishments and work ethic, but I also know that it takes a toll on my family.

I cannot tell you how many times I have been shamed for my decisions. I cannot make all the school events or be a part of PTA meetings or field trips. I cannot hang around at morning drop off to chat with the other moms and plan play-dates. I have had my share of rude comments and judgmental whispers about my parenting choices – Oh, I am surprised to see her here since she can never make these events. If the moms saying those things only knew how badly that one sentence hit me like an oncoming train; if they knew how badly my mom guilt eats at me BECAUSE I cannot make every event. If they only knew I sometimes get up in the middle of the night to just look at my children as they sleep. If they only knew that I have fallen asleep on my children’s bedroom floors when they are sick just because I needed to be close to them and make sure that they were okay.

When my youngest son was born, I had it set in my mind that I was going to breastfeed. I wanted what was best for my baby. The reality of what this looked like vs what I had to do to make that happen were quite different from one another. I work long hours, so to be able to supply my son with the milk he needed, I pumped in conference rooms, closets, in-between meetings, and as soon as I got home each evening. I woke myself up every night, sleep-deprived and all, and pumped for him. This little boy was not a very good sleeper either. He woke up 4-6 times a night until he was six months old. I got up with him in-between pumping sessions and for a solid six months. I somehow functioned on coffee and the sheer willpower to be the best mother and worker I could be. I may not make every field trip, but there is no limit or amount of sleep deprivation that would stop me from doing what is best for my children.

Here is the thing, I am a good mother. Working or not, my kids know I love them. On the weekends, I am on overdrive playing with them, planning activities, and loving them fiercely and unconditionally. The time I do have with them is not taken for granted. I make elaborate breakfast feasts, go on bike rides, and play games with them. We have movie nights and date nights too. I am not capable of sticking to a diet because quite frankly I do not want to give up my ice-cream dates and dessert-making classes with my oldest son.

Being a mother looks different for everyone. I do not think there is one right path of motherhood. I will never, however, degrade how difficult it is to be a stay at home mom. I know how hard this can be and I know how trying it can be on a woman’s psyche. The only thing working moms ask in return, is not to be judged for not making the same decisions and sacrifices. We make our own sacrifices every day. Yes, you chose to stay home, and I chose to work. That doesn’t make one choice better than the other. It doesn’t mean that you love your kids more then I love mine…it just means we took different paths. It means we are balancing our society's perceptions of what women are capable of. We are showing our children options, and the different paths a woman can take.

Mom guilt comes in all shapes and forms. Whether you’re a stay at home mom or a working mom. We all want what’s best for our children. I feel guilty about having wine nights with my girlfriends because I am spending more time away from my children. My girlfriends feel guilty for NEEDING those wine nights and time away from their children. We are all struggling, just in different ways. Being a mom is the most rewarding but trying thing a woman can be. No mother is the same. We all have mom guilt. Let’s stop tearing each ourselves down and start celebrating the wins. What matters is that our children feel loved and supported. I know that some days are harder than others. I know some days you feel as though you will never measure up to what the expectations of a mother are. I know the guilt of frozen pizzas and Door-dash for the billionth time weighing down on you. You got this, even if you have to tell yourself this every morning while crying in your car and fixing your makeup.

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