Mom guilt.
Did I play with him enough?
Does he even like this toy? He is laughing and giggling but I’m still not 100% sure.
He seems to be smiling more at his Dad than me today, does that mean I’m doing something wrong?
Is it wrong to be working and not home with him full time? Am I working enough?
Despite my lack of sleep, am I alert enough to really soak in this season of his life before it’s too late?
Does he know how much I love him? Can he tell? Do I show him well?
He smiles excitedly when I get home from work one day, immediate guilt that I didn’t get to spend the whole day with him.
Another day he is sleepy and doesn’t smile as big when I first get home, is he still attached to me, or do I work too much?
As a new Mom, these are only some of the thoughts I deal with every single day. As a therapist and also friend to lots of other new Mom’s too, I know I’m not the only one. But that honestly doesn’t make it any easier. This is such a joyful and sweet season of life to be in, watching one of the people I love the most in this world discover the world and grow every day right before my eyes. But the deep love I feel for him can also be so overwhelming, because I’m human and I know I’m not perfect, which means I can’t possibly be the perfect Mom. But that’s what I want for him. I often find myself living in fear that I am not going to always get it right. And the truth is, I’m not. And that’s a hard pill to swallow.
But what if I just accept it? What if I just learn to accept that I’m not going to be perfect, but I am always going to try my very best? What if I embrace the fact that I have an opportunity to model taking accountability for mistakes, laughing things off, and learning through failures? I think what makes that so hard, is that accepting that means that I am acknowledging that his life isn’t always going to be perfect… and that breaks my heart. In life, my son is going to experience so much love and joy and fun (my husband and I will make sure of that). But because this world is messy, he is inevitably also going to experience hurt and failure and pain. And I can’t fully stop that from happening throughout his whole life. And I hate that. I live in fear of that. So I do my best to create the safest most loving environment as possible. And yet, it never feels enough for someone as special as him.
But maybe the goal can’t be to be perfect. Maybe it needs to be to be loving, open, real, and safe.
Maybe I can’t stop pain from ever happening, but I can be the safe space to walk with him through it and love him through it all.
Maybe that needs to be enough, even though it doesn’t feel like it is. But maybe there can be beauty in embracing the mess, instead of running from it. Because maybe doing so gives my son permission to do that too. To not be defined by his failures but to learn from them. To not take himself too seriously. To live out of his strengths and own his weaknesses too. To know that he is always loved and worthy of being loved. And when I look at it that way, maybe I can allow my messy best to be enough, or at least not feel so guilty about it.
