Photo by Andrae Ricketts on Unsplash
In my latest feature on xoNecole, I share my experience as a stay-at-home mom and the guilt that has come along with it. Preview an excerpt below and head over to xoNecole for the full essay.
It’s 8:45 p.m. in our house. The dishwasher has been loaded and is working its magic. Every surface in the kitchen has been wiped clean to the point where they’re emitting a bit of a sparkle. The floors are swept. The dog has been walked. The baby has just nodded off to sleep. My husband stretches before giving his tummy a pat of satisfaction, letting me know dinner was on point tonight. For this miniature moment in time, all is well in the world and I am feeling accomplished.
Unfortunately, this feeling will be gone by daybreak. Guilt will take its place.
Every morning as my husband rises to get ready for work, she takes her seat next to me as I give my daughter her first diaper change for the day. Sometimes she speaks softly. Sometimes she yells. All of the time she makes me feel as if I need to be doing more. She tells me that despite taking on the majority of childcare and household chores, I’m not pulling my weight because I gave up my salary. As I indulge in morning snuggles with the baby, she reminds of my husband’s taxing commute into the city. When we walk him to the door and wave goodbye, she reminds me of all of the amazing accomplishments my girlfriends are making in the working world that I’ve left behind.
She loves to taunt me. Who is she? She is me.
When my husband first tossed out the idea of me being a stay-at-home mom, we were still dating. His mom had been a stay-at-home mom and he wanted the same for our kids. I understood and I appreciated the fact that he wanted to provide our future kids with the gift of having their mom around full-time.
“Sounds good,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
It did sound good. I had always wanted to be home with my kids while they were small because my own mom had worked around the clock. As a child, I would have given my left arm to have her around more. At the same time, a part of me winced as those words left my mouth. It was the part of me that thought about all of the career growth I would miss out on during those five years it would take for our then-hypothetical kid to grow from a newborn to a kindergartner. But in my mind, it was all worth it. So I agreed.
And it’s still worth it. I love being able to watch my daughter grow and change each day. I love witnessing each and every last one of her milestones. Most of all, I love the fact that I’m not so tired and burnt out that I don’t have the energy to be the patient mother I have always dreamed of being. This surely would not have been the case if I maintained my demanding position as a middle school teacher. The first five years of a child’s life are magical and I am blessed to be home to witness them. However, it’s been quite the adjustment.
Read more at xoNecole.
