Epic Fail

Two mothers standing at the fork in the road. Down one path is continuing with the career that each woman not only was devoted to, but also worked her butt through college to attain. Down the other is staying at home and acting as the primary caregiver to her baby. Both feel equally important and necessary. Both bring about financial stresses and concerns about the quality of available daycare. Both create unimaginable guilt.


I am friends with each of these women. They each had babies nine weeks ago, and in the American health care world it is time for them to return to their job. Maternity leave is o-v-e-r. Within the past few days I have talked with each of them about what their options are, but –as with everything else—to each his…er…her own. This is the most personal of all life’s decisions. One I struggled with myself.

At a recent playdate this struggle was a topic of conversation. We live in a demanding world. Little girls are told they can do it all, be it all. Translate the sentiment to women in their childbearing years and that is exactly the pressure we feel. Impossible as it is, in order to be a societal success we have to be a significant caregiver to our babies and use that college diploma to contribute to the family finances. Nothing less is acceptable: literally do it all and be it all. Nevermind that this is impractical and not humanly possible.

Bacation naptime. A great gift.

For me, the decision to not return to working outside the home was that I wanted my family to get the best of me. If I worked 7:00 to 4:00, I knew what energy I had left over would not be my finest. The emotional contribution to my household would be pretty poor to say the least. Plus, I didn’t think I could handle the guilt of not being there.

The honest truth is that guilt is one emotion that is born (or seriously heightened) the day your child is. You never can give enough, be enough, or feel confident you are doing the right thing. Right now –in our household—Hudson’s potty training has gone from sweet success to what my high schoolers would call an epic fail. And although this is not my bladder or my change of interest, I am the one left feeling guilty. Is this my Mother’s Day present?

At the risk of being Mr. Obvious, parenting is the most difficult job ever. But if you are capable of reading this blog AND potty trained, on this day to celebrate mothers, please say outloud, “You done good, Mama”. She will hear you and appreciate it.