A guilty mom

I’m sure that there are plenty of moms who are in my shoes. This guilt is not voiced frequently, which only makes it all worse. It should be acknowledged. There should be a way to help moms.

The guilt of a working mom. 

And the hurt that comes along with that. I’ve always known that when I had kids I would be a working mom for various reasons. I strived towards degrees, I’ve pushed at my jobs to get to higher places, and I knew I’d go insane.

This is where the guilt comes in. I love my children dearly and would do anything and everything for them if it meant keeping them safe and happy. But I go to work. 

Every day I leave in the morning. I get to kiss foreheads if they’re awake and miss them until the very moment I walk back through that door. I look forward to the smiles and excitement when I get there. 

And when I’m alone, I cry. 

You see, my husband is the one that stays with them. That is what we decided on right in the beginning. But a mom doesn’t realize how hard it is until she’s staring reality in the face. Until she realizes she can’t really fix boo boos anymore. That dad becomes the one and only. He’s their rock, their comfort. 

In those moments, the heart breaks just a little bit more each time. Rationally, it makes sense. He’s with them all the time and takes great care of them. He’s the most wonderful father and loves them dearly. Isn’t a mom supposed to fix what’s wrong though? Shouldn’t she be a source of comfort in some way? Even if it’s through a hug or a kiss?

Maybe one day, as they grow and become able to express themselves, will they show their love. For now, I savor the hugs and the smiles when they’re given willingly, when I become they one they turn to in that moment. And hope those moments never end. 

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