I lost it.
Saturday evening, after spending some much-needed time with good friends that I see far less often than I’d like, I returned home just in time to tuck my little one into bed. She had missed mommy and it showed — Eskimo kisses galore, sweet slobbery pecks on the cheeks, and “Mommy, I miss you! I luh you!” a few times in between. It was the sweetest, most wonderful end to my evening.
Sigh.
Long after Grace was in the bed that night and headed off to sleep, all of these thoughts suddenly came bubbling up to the surface and I lost it.
The mom-guilt had set in at 1000%, and I felt so overwhelmed by it all.
So I stood in my kitchen alone, and balled my eyes out. Because logic plays no part in mom-guilt. These feelings are as deep-rooted as the innate desire for children that most women start to feel somewhere in their 20s or 30s.
My husband eventually heard me sobbing and came to check on me. I tried to explain my feelings to him in between the shudders and gasps for air; it was such a raw moment for me and I knew he would never fully understand what I was feeling, but I attempted to describe it.
Just to put things into perspective: I’m one of those people who generally “powers through” and gets things done. I try not to focus on things that hurt; I just keep going. So these feelings have to wait most of the time; I am literally too busy to let it soak in and deal with it whenever it hits.
But on Saturday night, nearly two years of built-up emotion came tumbling down my cheeks. Two years of working full-time while I pay for child care because we can’t afford not to do things that way. Two years of saying goodbye to her every morning, and hating myself for it. Two years of mom-guilt.
And my husband, somehow knowing exactly what to say, walked up to me and held me while I cried, telling me over and over that I’m a good mother, and I’m doing a great job. In that moment, standing in our kitchen in pajamas, he embodied the love of Christ and his comfort was a tremendous blessing to me.
Yes, I still feel the mom-guilt. But I also feel incredibly blessed to know and love my child, despite whether she’s in my arms being snuggled or in preschool for the day. We are all still SO very blessed.
Later that night as we lay awake talking, I told David that I wanted every single child on this earth to have caregivers who love them as much as we love and adore Grace. I would lay down my life for her, and I know he would do the same.
And then I prayed as I have many times before, that God would protect all children everywhere — that they would all be blessed with a home where they feel loved and safe, in His name.
Prayer warriors, please join me in this prayer. Every child deserves to be loved and kept safe, and I believe in a God who moves mountains, so He can certainly move people who are able to help.
Blessings,
Emily
