The guilt of a working mother

Oh boy, 6 am is early.

Especially after heading to bed at 11 p.m. and two wake-ups in the middle of the night when T stirred. Now that she's in her own bed, in her own room, all it takes is to go in and hand her back her pacifier (I'll address the pacifier at 2 dilemma in another post!) which has rolled off the mattress or sometimes, lie beside her until she falls back to sleep. It's the latter that is no longer as easy said as done.

Getting on and off a crunchy (waterproof) 4-foot long crib mattress on the floor when one is 5 1/2 months pregnant, slowly and silently so as to not wake a lightly sleeping 2 yr. old, is about as simple as a circus trapeze act. Last week a 60 sec. freeze when I was trying to escape caused my neck to seize up for 2 days.

So why doesn't B just lie with her, unencumbered as he is by a watermelon-sized midsection? Because lately she's been asking for me. And while there have been lots of parenting roles and periods where we've made that transition and accepted the short-term tears it brings, I, like many women who spend the vast majority of their days, most of each week, 47 weeks of the year, physically and/or emotionally unavailable to their children, have Working Mother's Guilt.

Before Thea was born I joined a local walking group to meet pregnant and new moms. It was fabulous. In addition to the wisdom (or just experience) of being 5 months ahead of me in their pregnancies, then births and the roller coaster of new parenthood, it gave me a wide variety of perspectives on different babies, marriages, family dynamics, and work arrangements (basically just different lives). Those wonderful women taught me a lot, including the challenges and dilemmas that all women (and men) wrestle with during this massive shift of axis to parenthood. One of those dilemmas was with regard to work - who was going to stay at home, who was going back part-time, who was returning to full-time (and when), and who was looking for an alternate career to better balance work and family. What I learned was that every single one of these choices involved sacrifice and compromise, either with their partners, financially and/or emotionally. This post can only speak to my perspective - that of a FT working mother. But I know precious few women whose choice -to work or stay at home or somewhere in between - hasn't involved some measure (hopefully fleeting) of doubt or regret.

For me, the decision to work comes from recognizing an aspect of my personality that I sometimes wish I could shut off, but can't - a career drive that has luckily found a job I love. While I love T exponentially more, I also know I would not be as happy a person, and thus as good of a mother to her if I didn't have the personal fulfillment my work brings. This isn't just theoretical knowledge either. My only bouts with depression have occurred during two prolonged stretches of unemployment. I didn't like who I became and hope I don't have to show that side of myself to my daughter.

The result is that I live with guilt. Guilt for not being there. While I recognize that stay at home parents don't (can't) spend quality time with their children constantly, the fact is that B (as a SAHD) is there for her; she has learned to count on him, and to expect my daily departure. Luckily, it is no longer accompanied by the tears it was when she was little, but sometimes her resignation to my daily leaving pains me (if not her) just as strongly.

You'd think I'd be used to it now. As I was not eligible for maternity leave after her birth, I returned to work PT when she was 5 weeks old. I was back FT within a couple months. And naturally I have adjusted from those first weeks, but there are always ebbs and flows; when it flows, it flows hard: long hours and weekends during the fall, a big event and a week at the U.N. in the spring, with new commitments popping up all the time. By far my hardest transition of all was my first work trip away from her this past May: a trip to the Philippines that separated us for 13 excruciating days, forcing T to wean. How do you explain to a 24 month old why Mommy disappeared? How do you convey the concept of days passing (and getting closer to a goal) to a toddler's under-developed sense of time? How do you let her know that she was not abandoned? That Mommy does love you and is coming back.

In addition to the physical hours I spend away from her, the fact that I have a 40-50 hr work week affects the rest of my life as well. I wake at 6 a.m. to write because time spent on the computer when she's awake sacrifices those few precious hours I do get to spend with her. Our time together in the morning consists of only 30 - 90 minutes, during which I have to shower, dress, eat, probably check work e-mail and get off to work. After work, it's at best, from 5:30 - 8:30. Recently I've also tried to attend prenatal yoga 1-2 evenings a week (sometimes the only 75 min in my day that I really remember I'm pregnant and focus on connecting with this baby). Despite how deeply I value that practice, there isn't a day I head out (usually within 30 minutes of arriving home from work) without the guilt of saying bye to T for yet another hour and a half.

However, there are benefits. Not just for our livelihood which currently depends entirely on my income. But ironically, in some ways, for my relationship with T. Working Mother's Guilt is like a dull ache that is always present. It influences the way I value my time and activities 24-7 so that I can capitalize on my preciously-short time with T. I make adjustments to my schedule, like only going to the gym over my lunch hour or if I can get off work early (or squeeze in a quick session before I'd be home anyway). I try to find activities that I want to do on which she can join me (like running with her in the stroller). And lots of times I just say no. No to a social outing; no to a work engagement; no to a workout I really should do because I left especially early that morning, or we haven't seen each other much that week and I'm noticing the effect on both of us.

I always rush home from work because when I walk in the door, she runs to my arms. That hug and kiss of welcome is the highlight of my day. We cuddle on the couch and I ask her about her day. We read some books or play outside. I consciously try to include her in our conversations and routine daily activities. She plays independently a lot, which luckily gives B and I some productive adult time together as well. But I think Working Mother's Guilt has made me consciously aware that while I can't have the quantity of time I want with her, I can make every effort to make it quality time.

Or course I'm not perfect. It's after work, B's at yoga and she's watching "Elmo's Potty Time" as I type. But I'm snug beside her on the couch rather than at my desk, and I try to stop every couple minutes to discuss Elmo's latest bowel movements. She chatters to me excitedly about the gorilla who is eating the restaurant and drinking out of the fire hydrant, and if I hug her close she will likely smile and say what she knows I love to hear, "I love you too, Mommy."