The Mommy-Guilt Phenomenon

Not so very long ago, I was having an in-depth chat with a former lawschool classmate during her baby's first birthday. Subject in question: mommy-hood. In particular, mommy-guilt.

What is it with us mommies? Why do we subject ourselves to an absurd amount of guilt for things not done and left undone.

For her, the guilt often came whenever she took time to have her nails done prior to a hearing in court ("Oh my poor baby, why did I leave her? I wonder if she's crying out for me right now"). Despite having fully breastfed her daughter, despite having stayed up late cooking, oesterizing and freezing three day's worth of personalized baby food, despite the sleepless nights and the backbreaking days trotting protectively after an early walker...she still felt guilty.

Why is this so? And why is this so universal among mommies alone? Where do the daddies figure in all this? Are they ever tormented by the guilt of parenting inadequacy?

The other night, I was helping Woog with his homework, trying to take it slow for his sake, and yet continually glancing up at the clock, hoping to finish before an hour was up, which from painful experience, is Woog's breaking point as far as homework is concerned. "We're running out of time, Woog," I finally warned, "so please concentrate."

Immediately, a wave of intense guilt washed over me. Why was I harassing my son? Wasn't it my job to guide him lovingly and patiently through this tiresome repetitious task which will occupy a fourth of his life for the next 14 to 16 years? What kind of a mother am I?

At the same time, I worried about Eli somewhere downstairs, either in the care of his nanny or snoozing in his stroller. I felt another twinge of guilt about not spending enough time with him. We hardly ever have time to read a book together before his bedtime rolls around. And feeling guilty about my inability to cellularly subdivide into several super mommies to accomplish everything somehow seemed like an appropriate emotion for the occasion.

I do not just feel guilty like this once a month, or once a week. I feel this way almost as often as I think of my sons. That compulsion to provide for one's children to the best of one's mothering abilities - from pregnancy to childbirth, from breastfeeding to nurturing, from teaching to supporting - and falling short of one's own expectations, is one hell of a lousy emotion to go through Every. Single. Day. And yet I still do feel this way. Apparently, so do most of the other mothers I interact with.

Yesterday, I was part of a support group that empathized with a fellow mommy co-worker, who sobbed in our collective arms about the problems she was having with her older son - a love-addled fellow who wouldn't quit stalking the girl of his dreams, said terrified girl having reported the incidents to her mother, his mother, and the police (!!!)

My co-worker cried, "What have I done wrong? Haven't I done everything I could to raise him right?"

Again, the guilt weights heavily on the mommy's heart.

Is it our pre-determined gender-ingrained roles that keep us feeling this way? Not so long ago, the daddies brought home the bacon. Now, most of us mommies do, too. Did the generations of women before our time, who stayed at home, kept the house and raised the children, ever feel this way? I may be extremely fortunate to be a working mom, and yet I am irrationally guilty about how this dual role limits the time I spend with my kids. Puzzle that conundrum out.

And the daddies? Today's fathers have taken an increasingly hands-on role in the raising of their children. My husband is one (and I am so insanely proud of him for that). But do they feel the same deep remorse after having spoken curtly to their children? Or spanked them, for that matter? Atch being Atch, simply takes everything in stride. For him, what's done is done. No going over and over the incident wishing he could've done things differently. Gently. Less abruptly.

Like a male co-worker who was talking excitedly the other week about the recent promotion he received. His dream job, he said. Said dream job requiring him to move to the mother office several regions away, relocating his wife (who happens to have a successful retail career here) and his daughter (who'd just gotten settled in school and formed her own circle of friends). Not one iota of guilt there. In his place, what would a mommy do?

I realize mommies today would need to ease up on their harsh expectations of themselves and come to terms with the reality of what they're capable of doing - and not doing. We're not out to raise serial killers or bank robbers or even stalkers. We're here to mother. And if our hearts are softer, more vulnerable and prone to guilt than most, then so be it. If we weren't made that way, there wouldn't be any mommies around at all.