Lost & Found

Today I found myself in a moment of total life re-evaluation. The day was a bit of a crappy one.

After getting my daughter out of the bath, I always wrap her in a towel and dry her with a big hug. It’s a special moment between us – this little child, not yet five, and her mother.

Maybe I’ve been quieter this evening and she noticed. After bath I said “come here, mama needs a hug.” She asked “did you have the worst day ever?” Too extreme an assessment, though I still bit back tears. “No, not the worst day ever.”

Just a quick book tonight. I managed two different voices for the characters, though completely distracted thinking about an email exchange from earlier in the day that I feared the sender veiled with misgivings about my professional aptitude. 

Out goes the light, and on goes the lullabies and night light projector. She wiggles and wiggles and I try to breathe. “Cuddle me?” she asks. And I need her cuddles, too. “Will you always protect me?” I swear to God she asks. “I will, that’s my job.” I reply and kiss her forehead.

She falls asleep easier than I anticipated, and I begin to hear the lullaby playing, one I’ve never heard on our playlist. I can tell the voice is that of Mary Poppins, but it’s Emily Blunt, not Julie Andrews (which explains why I have never heard it).

Looking at my little girl’s face, such an angel, now way off in dreamland, and Emily sings:

Time to close your eyes

So sleep can come around

For when you dream you’ll find

All that’s lost is found

Maybe on the moon

Or maybe somewhere new

Maybe all you’re missing lives inside of you

My girl’s asleep, and I am totally overwhelmed by my love for her that I’m crying, just taking in her lovely face. And I’m feeling bitter that anything brings a distraction to my time with her, like an email from work.

Working Mom Guilt 

I’ve been so fortunate through the pandemic. In those two years I’ve finished grad school and been promoted. We’ve also been lucky that our daughter is younger and in a preschool that remained open, removing the strain of juggling to manage virtual school while working. Pressure has still risen though. I feel guilty if anything comes up about my parental obligations at work. My family is my priority, and there is no suggestion to change that, but for some reason I feel an insecurity – despite the fact that so many successful professionals around me are women.

I’m certain so many moms of young kids relate to this feeling, especially given the new normal of the pandemic, which has blurred work and personal lives in a new way. The mantras of ‘work life balance,’ ‘work on your schedule’ and ‘support women!’ a great to hear. Yet I find myself wondering why I feel like everything rests on a delicate stack of cards and someone is going to decide that because I have a child, I’m not qualified for my role. Or that it’s not enough to work just 40 hours a week in order to make time for my family without burning out. To be clear, the guilt and pressure comes from within – not from anyone or anything at work. Luisa Madrigal knows the feeling.

I remember the night before I went back to work after maternity leave. It ached to close that chapter. But that night too, I watched her drift off to sleep and knew just how much a child encompasses all that matters and a lifetime of hopes and dreams. It turns out, the “working-mom guilt” I felt both then and now is something pretty common, though I never thought to look into it. The first paragraph of this Harvard Business Review by Sheryl G. Ziegler article sums up my feelings perfectly.

Despite my accomplishments, the day’s earlier email obliterates a sense of professional competence. I feel like I’m falling short, and maybe the problem is that I’m just too sensitive. Or maybe I just need constant confidence boosters as a security blanket for this great job that I’m so fortunate to have and need to provide for my family and give this little girl the best life possible. In the HBR article, Ziegler recommends an exercise to revisit one’s values as a way to let go of the guilt. This resonates, because it’s something I’ve done and defined in the past, so I’m able to recenter on these fundamentals. It helps.

I have moments of fun and fulfillment at work, but they are surely balanced with punctuations of stress. I want to feel free and happy and energized. And who doesn’t? I feel like I don’t have enough time to explore and foster the life (or being the mom) I envision. I want to feel like myself – that my unique talents and passions are realized and fueling my sense of fulfillment. And I want to be completely present for my husband and daughter. It’s hard to ignore these feelings bubbling inside me and I realize, as in the lullaby’s lyrics, something feels lost.

Serenity In Pasta

I need to shut off my mind. I pour a glass of wine… and think I should exercise instead. (Don’t worry – not in tandem.) My husband is away tonight, and I’m grateful he does the majority of the cooking. Cooking is a joy of mine, but I no longer have the energy to put into it unless I either need to feed myself when alone or maybe once a week for the family. 

Then I remember something I feel I am really good at: making a solid pasta dish with random ingredients.

There’s some leftover plain fusilli. I pull out a saucepan and throw in just shy a tablespoon of butter, and sorting through the fridge, add a few wedges of good tuna packed in oil from a jar. I add a few anchovies from an opened can and let all of that cook for a bit, adding a drizzle of spicy oil. Stirring and cooking, I season with a little pepper (the anchovy will salt the rest), and then, searching the fridge again for something to add to create a sauce… no pasta sauce, no pesto… I decide to add a few tablespoons of the tomato-red pepper soup I’d had for lunch. Stirred a bit more and added a few more drizzles of the spicy oil and something has come together that looks and smells appetizing. It goes into a bowl, and is topped with a heaping pile of grated parmesan.

What a delight, and I feel good that I’ve reaffirmed that skill of pasta dish making. It’s small, but it gives me satisfaction and serenity.

I’m so grateful for this life and this family and everything we have. Yet I have more dreams to manifest for us, and long to reconnect with a part of myself. And I think back that maybe that lullaby was for me tonight…

All that’s lost is found

Maybe on the moon

Or maybe somewhere new

Maybe all you’re missing lives inside of you

Can you relate to this feeling? How do you balance – or cope – with working mom guilt? What strategies have you found that work to let go of the feeling, or find what matters most?

Photo by Guzmán Barquín on Unsplash