Mum guilt: inevitable but redeemable

Jennifer Goodyer - 19 Nov 16

Almost from the moment Henry was born, I dreaded going back to work. It didn’t help that pretty much every conversation I had with anyone included the question: ‘When are you going back to work?’ I hated this question. Not only because it seemed to belittle the exhausting work I was already doing looking after my son, but also because it made me painfully aware that my days in my ‘new mum’ bubble were numbered. Struggling with sleep deprivation and the sudden and immediate demands of keeping a tiny infant alive, I worried about how I could possibly remain good at my job now my heart and mind were completely absorbed by a tiny, wriggly and often screaming human.

I regret wasting so much of my maternity leave worrying about how I would feel when it ended and I would advise other mothers to avoid thinking about it at all, unless completely necessary. Time with a new baby, as a new mum, is just too precious – and hormonally fuelled – to be thinking beyond tomorrow. But I’d be lying if I said that all the things I worried about while on maternity leave never transpired. It did feel like my heart was breaking when I left Henry crying at nursery; I did give less to my teaching job than I had before my maternity leave began; and I did feel less maternal towards the students now I had my own child pulling on my heartstrings.

Like so many working mothers, my weeks were plagued by guilt. Guilt when I left him crying at nursery, guilt that his day at nursery was longer than the working day of some adults, guilt that I was too tired when I picked him up from nursery to play properly with him or enjoy the time we had together, guilt when I rushed bedtime so I could get on with a pile of marking, guilt that when I had my days off, my mind was as much on lesson planning as on playing. At the other end of the spectrum, I felt guilty that I wasn’t as good a teacher as I should have been. I felt guilty that dropping Henry off at nursery often meant turning up only five minutes before my first lesson, guilty when my lessons weren’t as well planned as they used to be, guilty when books went unmarked for longer than they used to and guilty that the job sometimes seemed just a means to a payslip.

To some extent things improved over time and I occasionally enjoyed weeks where I felt I had achieved an acceptable balance of work and life. But the pangs of guilt remained, even during the good weeks. I used to look enviously at the few stay at home mums I knew, who could be present in the moment with their children without – I thought – feeling endlessly torn and guilt-ridden.

After two years of juggling work and motherhood I was on maternity leave again. Determined not to waste my precious maternity leave on worry, I ignored my return to work completely and evaded the dreaded “when are you back to work?” questions. I assumed I would go back but repeated to myself like a mantra that nothing would be gained through worrying about it.

As is often the case, life had other plans. My husband was offered a job abroad when my daughter, Phoebe, was seven months old. Living abroad was something we’d always talked about and this opportunity seemed too good to turn down. After a lot of discussion we decided to go for it and, with some reluctance and some relief, I handed in my notice.

Fast forward eight months and I am living in Chicago as a stay at home mum. In some ways it’s great. I no longer feel I’m “missing out” on time with my children and it’s easier to see the world through their eyes now I’m with them so much of the time. I love being able to take them on mid-week adventures around the city and our routines are much more dictated by the seasons. An added bonus is that when we go away at the weekend, I’m no longer worrying about when I’ll do my planning or if the children will be too tired for nursery the next day. But, if I’m honest, I still struggle with guilt, albeit in new forms. I feel guilty that I am not making a financial contribution; guilty that I’m not fully using all of my talents and qualifications; guilty that my children might not always be as stimulated or socially adapted as they would be at nursery; guilty that I sometimes feel mind-numbingly bored; guilty that I am entrenching outdated, patriarchal family values. When people ask me what I do, I tell them that I’m a stay at home mum but I quickly add that I’m a trained teacher or that I’ve just moved here from the UK. The fact I feel I have to justify my choices is very revealing.

Admittedly, I am a perfectionist who has a tendency to overthink things and beat herself up about pretty much anything and everything. But I know I’m not alone with these worries. So many of the mums I know feel similar: they wonder if they are making the right choices, or feel guilty about the choices they have made or have had to make. The ideal work-life balance eludes pretty much everyone I know.

And then I started thinking about this guilt so many of us mums feel. In some ways it is a completely pointless, and often self-perpetuating emotion. Unlike anger and sadness, guilt has no obvious physical release and instead of offering direction, simply serves to make us feel like hopeless failures. But there is one redeeming feature to guilt. This is the reverse or hidden side of guilt, which offers hope and an opportunity for connection. Because on the other side of the terrible self-doubt and judgement that guilt imparts is an implicit appreciation for decisions we haven’t taken and ways of life we aren’t living. When I feel guilty, what’s really happening is that I am judging that another decision that I’ve not made is better than the one I have made, which enables me to see the positives in that other choice.

This reverse side of guilt can easily mutate into envy or its meaner sister, jealousy, which divides and eventually corrodes the sisterhood. But if we are willing to make ourselves vulnerable by openly and honestly talking about our guilt – why we feel it, what it feels like and why it scares us – we can disarm it at the same time as transforming it. Instead of something destructive, guilt becomes an occasion for affirmation and appreciation of other mums. Not in the sense of “you’re so lucky, your life is so much better/easier/more exciting/worthwhile than mine” (because really that’s envy masquerading as appreciation) but in the sense of “you’re doing something really important and valuable and I appreciate you”.

I wish I’d used my working mum guilt to affirm, more vocally, the stay-at-home mums I knew. I also wish I’d written down those affirmations so I could look at them now. I know the vague shape of what I would have said but the words don’t carry the same weight or conviction if I try to summon them. Instead I take comfort in the fact that decision making is complicated and messy and, even if I can’t always see them, I know there were good reasons for the choice my family made. I also know that it’s likely that this time in my life will eventually seem all too fleeting and being present is more important that making perfect decisions. I tell myself I am enough and that I’m doing my best.

But, when it strikes (as it eventually does) I can use my stay-at-home mum guilt to affirm working mums. And this is so important because all too many working mums think stay-at-home mums are judging them and thinking they are the ‘real’ mums who are doing motherhood ‘properly’ and are the most invested in their children. Maybe this is true of some but it certainly is not true of me. This stay-at-home mum has no judgement for working mums, only admiration. Because, working mums, I think it’s impressive that you inhabit two worlds. And I also think it’s admirable that although you feel the pull from both of those worlds, you somehow manage not to break. I appreciate you keeping the glass ceiling high and in perilous danger of collapse by using your skills, your education, your knowledge and experience to advance your career. And, although you might not always realise it, you are inspiring your children by showing them life’s complexities and how to meet the challenges they bring. Sometimes you might feel like you never do or give enough but, please believe me, you do and you are enough. But if you ever do feel guilty, please look underneath for the hidden appreciation of another mum – known or unknown – who’s on a different path. Find it and share it because this is the key to transforming and disarming your guilt.

And we need to transform and disarm guilt.

Because guilt is exhausting and motherhood is tiring enough.

Jennifer Goodyer

Jennifer Goodyer is a British mum of two, currently chasing the American dream in Chicago. Her son, Henry (4) likes to remind her that she used to be a teacher "but now you're just a mummy". A big believer in sisterhood, Jennifer's mission is to empower those around her, especially women. She isn't afraid to embarrass herself or make herself vulnerable as long as it makes someone else feel a bit better.

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