In my opinion, it's a given.
We give birth and we start feeling guilty.
Okay, actually we start feeling guilty before we've even given birth. You know, that one or six drinks you had before you knew you were pregnant. Maybe it was smoking a few cigarettes or riding the roller coaster, but every single mother has felt it. Motherguilt.
I checked out the book Motherguilt by Ita Buttrose and Dr Penny Adams from the library and I haven't read it yet, but the title just spoke to me. The second I found out I was pregnant, it started and it still hasn't stopped. Only now, it's magnified by two. Two children = twice the guilt. Here is a not-so-brief sampling of my motherguilt:
1. I didn't eat vegetables when I was pregnant with Katriana. As in, I might have eaten a tomato once or twice, but that was it. I generally don't like vegetables.
2. I lived off of processed convenience foods or fast food. I was 19 and a college student.(that almost deserves a separate listing as another guilt that I felt instead of an explanation.)
3. After Katriana was born I was obsessed with being the perfect mother.
4. I only breastfed her until she 11 months old and she weaned herself. ( I KNOW! Nothing to feel guilty about, but I do. Also, I usually just round up and tell everyone that she breastfed for a year.)
5. I went back to work when K was 3 weeks old. She stayed with Fernando while I was at work.
6. I didn't use cloth diapers.
7. I could go on, but I'll just move on to Mariska.
8. I drank real coke the entire time I was pregnant with Mariska.
9. I gained 42 pounds but she only weighed six pounds.
10. I only nursed exclusively for around 2-3 months, then it was half breast, half bottle, until month 5. (Once again I round up and always tell people that I nursed for the first six months.)
11. I didn't use cloth diapers, again.
12. I used pacifiers with both my children.
13. I let Katriana watch way too much TV when I was pregnant with Mariska, because I was TIRED. (yet I still feel guilty!)
14. Mariska is 3 and a half and still not potty trained.
15. Mariska did not give up her pacifier until she was nearly 3.
16. I don't play with my children enough.
17. I'm not very sympathetic when they fall. ("Are you bleeding? No. Well, go play.")
18. I'm not patient enough.
19. I sometimes give in when they whine.
20. Mariska has asthma.
I realize that most of these things are either a) not a big deal, b) not my fault, or c) all of the above. Yet I STILL feel guilty.
Motherhood is guilty work. Why? That is what I want to know. Why do we feel guilty? Did our mothers feel guilty?Did our grandmothers feel guilty? Do you feel guilty?
I want to stop feeling so guilty and just get on with being a mother, but is that really a good idea? My guilt seems to motivate me to be a better mother. I yelled at the kids, so I stop and think of ways or look up ways to avoid yelling. Personal growth. Does that make the guilt constructive?
It can.
Then comes the problem of judging. Everywhere we go as mothers we are being judged. Judgements from other mothers must account for over half of our motherguilt. Working mom? You don't love your children enough. Oh, You stay at home? You have no brain. Non-spanker's, spanker's, gender specific toys, non-gender specific toys, healthy snacks or potato chips. The choices that we are judged on by other mothers and that we judge other mothers on is staggering. I am also guilty of the judging. We all are. As a first time, insecure, young mother, I focused on breastfeeding. I was a Breastfeeding Nazi. I had actually convinced myself that if I did not breastfeed, I would be a bad mother. I looked with scorn on bottle feeding mothers and considered myself superior to them because I was makin' milk. I still consider myself a lactivist, but now I'm not judging. I know what it feels like to be judged and I don't like it one bit. Breastfeeding is best, no one can argue that, but we shouldn't judge a person's parenting skills based on their lactation status. We shouldn't contribute to the guilt that they already feel.
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7 comments:
Sure we all have guilt - my husband says Guilt is the principal guiding force in my life. - it's my moral compass!
BUT, here's the cool thing - mother's may feel guilt while their kids are babies but we get to GIVE guilt once they are older: "Don't mind me, I'm just the person who was in labor for 14 hours so that you could come into this world." ETC.
;)
Oh yes- don't worry "the perfect mom" doesn't exsist. I recently came across this story from another blog and I have LOVED it so much I've shared it with everyone. It is really long so sorry if it takes up all your comments page- you can delete it when you are done reading it.
I'm Invisible.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it? "
I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?"
I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going . she's going . she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees." I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building agreat cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey forthree hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there." As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
That was a really great post. We all have guilt, but the more important thing is, I think, we are all doing the best we can at any given moment. No one has kids and plans to be a 'bad' mom, right? If you hugged your girls today and they know they are loved, you are doing a great job.
I totally understand this. I have waves of feeling enormously guilty too. Not breastfeeding my daughter (a week and a half doesn't count does it?) was supremely high on my list for a while. Now it more commonly centers around too much yelling or not enjoying their company as much as I should.
Here is a guilt... we are postponing toilet training my daughter until we get home to the States in January because it will be easier for us to do it at home. Even though it will probably be better for her too, I'm still feeling guilty about it. You're right, it just comes with the territory.
Just remember the great hugs and other expressions of love from your kids. That helps me ignore the guilty feelings.
I have guilt without the kids... does this mean I'll become a nutcase when I have children?
I'm still trying to figure out how you could possibly feel guilty about #20. Though I completely understand one motivation or the other fuels the rest. #17 isn't going to be that big a deal in the long run. My parents did that to me; I survived.
Oh guilt...yep, it's a common thread with all of us mums!It's a good thing our kids turn out ok inspite of us...! It's always good to try to be a better mother, wife, person, but we will never be perfect! Sometimes I think I aim for perfection way too much... oh well....!
Love,
Joy
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