Contradicting my guilt

Updated: Sep 3, 2019

Why the guilt Mumma? Why?

As I sit on this breaking-dawn domestic flight from Melbourne to Adelaide, clearing out my full inbox I ask myself: did I leave today’s clothes out for tiny human 1? Is tiny human 2 still asleep? Jeez, I hope he hasn’t woken his dad too early. Did tiny human 1 have a melt down because it wasn’t the right pair of socks I left out or correct shoes with adequate sparkle? Is everything prepared for tonight’s dinner during the mad rush I will miss? Did I take that pair of earrings I left on my side table? Does it matter? Did I read all the papers for today’s all-day meeting? I need to be on my game for this one. Don’t forget to add the notes and talk! Is tiny human 2 awake yet? That’s what you’re there for! Talk!

Yes. This is my brain this morning. Wondering, thinking, planning, mothering, wife-ing (?), working, rehearsing, organising, remembering, forgetting, remembering not to forget. Remembering not to feel guilty about being away. It’s fine, everything and everyone is just fine.

I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. It’s 6:53am.

This is my current reality. I work five days and week in a job I love, a job I want to excel at and be know for. I want to have an impact and I want to add-value to everything I touch. Sure, I have high expectations of myself but the one thing I don’t want to be said is that the demands of my young family negative impact my corporate life and contribution. Did tiny human 1 even notice I wasn’t there for the wake-up this morning?

And a shout-out, if I may. To all the different realities out there pushing through the same thoughts, the same doubts, the same concern, the same desired. We just want to be the best mum we can be, be it at home or from a far. We are all the same-same but different. And how great is that as we raise our tiny humans.

Perhaps the biggest guilt and contradiction of all is that deep down I just know everything is going to be perfectly okay. There will still be smiles and laughs, tantrums and tears. But the kids will be okay. Okay without me.

Sigh. Am I okay with that reality? And isn’t this what I truly want? Aren’t these the exact tiny humans I want to raise?

So why the guilt mumma? Why?
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