How to Overcome Mommy Guilt

I think most of us would agree that there’s no such thing as a perfect parent, and yet so many of us struggle with mommy guilt. 

Have you ever thought, said, or heard and iteration of, “she’s got it all together. She has 5 kids, her make-up is always perfect, she’s lost all her baby weight, she’s always smiling…” I often wonder if we could defeat mommy guilt by candidly sharing what happens behind the social media curtain. If we posted pictures of the tantrums or shared stories of the times our decisions resulted in a train-wreck. What if we shared our lessons learned in an effort to encourage one another, help each other grow, confirm for one another just how hard this parenting job is and how messy it gets?

If sharing more openly could validate another mom, offer her hope, give her permission to forgive herself, or help cut the cord of guilt, then count me in. 

I make a lot of mistakes with my kids, and although I acknowledge that there’s no such thing as a perfect parent, I recently made a choice that caused shame to sit like a heavy stone deep in my heart. I hope this story will help you feel less alone. I hope this will encourage you to let go of mommy shame and hold onto grace. 

Our son, Isaac, recently had a sleepover at his friend’s house. My husband and I understand that the term “sleep” must be held loosely in these situations, so when it came time to pick him up, we expected that he may be grouchy, and we mentally prepared ourselves for a long day of less than stellar behavior. When he climbed into the car, it was clear that our expectations were spot on. Isaac, and the dark cloud traveling above him, shifted everyone’s mood immediately. Everything was a battle. His behavior ran the gamut…from whining, to picking on his sister, to yelling “no” at every request, and as the volume in our car intensified, my frustration boiled over. In a moment of exasperation, I spun around in the passenger seat to face him, and regretfully blurted out, 

“You know what!? This morning was perfectly lovely until we picked up Isaac!” 

I immediately felt hot shame and regret spread over my body. I quickly turned back around in my seat and fell silent. My husband (who had managed to remain calm) jumped in and attempted to remove the sting from my hurtful words. He explained that the morning was still lovely, but that Isaac’s attitude needed to change or there would be consequences. As my husband took the lead, I sat quietly, forcing back tears, internally berating myself. I could not believe I said something so hurtful, so mean, so thoughtless to my 5 year old, and I hated myself for it. As soon as Pete finished smoothing things over and setting new boundaries, I apologized to Isaac. I sought to use my mistake as a teaching moment, admitting to him that when I’m frustrated or angry I sometimes say things I don’t mean, and that I was sorry for my hurtful words. I asked for his forgiveness and although he offered it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just wounded his precious 5 year old heart permanently. I was tearful for the remainder of the day while the critic in my head repeatedly attempted to convince me that I’m not cut out to be a mom.  

Fear was telling me that my mistake (and all the others that came before and certainly would come after) would ruin our relationship and we wouldn’t recover. I began to imagine that any self-esteem issues he may deal with in the future would be because of this seed (“your presence makes things worse”), which I planted in a moment of frustration. I couldn’t let it go and I couldn’t find grace, so I texted some faithful friends and family whom I knew wouldn’t judge me. I needed to confess to those I love and trust. I shared what I had done and that I felt like there was something wrong with me…like I wasn’t meant to be a mom. I admitted to them that there are days I make so many mistakes that I begin to wonder why God trusted me with these tender-hearted kids. I shared of the fear that whispers, “you will never connect with your son the way you hope and pray for,” and the fear that attempts to convince me that every mistake creates more relational damage than I’ll be able to repair.

It was my friends and family who pulled me up and out of my shame spiral and helped me to see more clearly. I hope that there are other moms who will be as blessed as I was by these reminders from my incredible community: 

• Every mistake is a learning opportunity and a reminder for both the parent and their children, that no one is perfect and THAT IS OK!  
• Our mistakes are perfect teaching moments! They are a chance to demonstrate vulnerability, and that being a flawed human doesn’t mean we aren’t worthy of giving and receiving love.  
• Every moment is a new opportunity to draw closer to our kids regardless of how many times we lapse in our parenting judgment.
• Every parent has said something(s) to their kid(s) that they regret. 
• You’re not the first or last mother to say something hurtful to a child from a place of anger or frustration, and as our children grow, these interactions will build resiliency along with a deep knowing of how to seek, offer, and receive forgiveness.
• When you ask for forgiveness you’re repairing what has been broken. 
• When our children know they are loved, then forgiveness is abundant.
• You can be a great parent AND be a human who makes mistakes again and again.
• Parents who are willing to apologize are modeling a behavior we hope all of our kids will learn and demonstrate in their own lives. 
• Shaming ourselves when we make mistakes teaches our kids to do the same. 
• We must give ourselves grace…parenting is not easy! 

One friend sent a beautiful prayer that brought peace to my heart, and I want to share it with you in the hopes that it will bring the same to yours. She wrote, and I now pray this for all the mamas who share in this struggle:

 “Dear Lord, I pray you give [the mama reading this prayer] love and peace in her time of struggle. I pray that you guide her through the hard times we have as parents and that you hear her heart as she aches from choosing the wrong words. I pray that you protect [this mama’s son and/or daughter] and allow [him and/or her] to receive [their mama’s] love and know that through mistakes there is an unfaltering love that outlasts and overcomes any words that are said. In Jesus name I pray, Amen.”

I want to encourage you to find someone you trust and disclose to them any mom guilt you may be holding onto. Give yourself and other moms consistent reminders to offer forgiveness and grace for your blunders. Share with other moms your imperfections as a reminder that we’re all doing our best, and we all falter. I pray we’ll help each other walk in grace rather than fall into the temptation of comparison and judgment. I pray we’ll encourage each other with words of love and truth. Let us remind each other that as we learn to give our kids grace we must do the same for ourselves. As our little ones learn and grow, we are truly learning and growing right along with them.

Grace, grace, abundant grace beautiful mamas!

Bad Luck, Beautiful Blessings

Before you read my blog about bad luck, you must know that when I originally posted it on Facebook, it was deleted by their algorithm because “it looked like spam.” Thank you Facebook for really driving the point home about my inherent lack of luck. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony! I responded to their “Support” Message indicating that my blog was not spam and they restored my post several days later. Naturally, I had to edit my blog to include these series of events. Life makes me laugh.

 

I have often wondered if my mother gave birth to me under a ladder, with a black cat resting on her belly, while the OBGYN spilled salt and held a cracked mirror to capture the visual of my beautiful birth. I am not the person you take to Vegas if you hope to win. I AM the person you take to Vegas if you need someone to laugh at. I’m the one who falls off the riser during a choir concert, breaks her arm in an alumni game, sleeps through a college final, gives the wrong date for the house party, gives the wrong address for the house party, suffers a computer crash and loses the 18-page term paper that’s due the next day, gets pulled over as a suspect for a car wash burglary, gets busted at a concert for taking a picture of the band while everyone else is consuming illegal drugs, has her blog post about bad luck deleted by Facebook’s algorithm (yes this just happened), and starts desensitization therapy for a life-limiting bug phobia while contracting lice the same week. I am that person!

As I grow older and reminisce on my last 37 (or so) years, and how I ended up where I am now, a mom of 2 precious children, with a husband I adore, and a job I enjoy more often than not, I can’t help but acknowledge that I’ve never been a lucky person, but I’ve always been blessed. I have travelled through many painful moments, life-altering circumstances, and dark seasons, yet in every one of them I have witnessed blessings that illustrate divine intervention in my life over and over again. I could write a book of these events, but let me start with one.

I was in graduate school for my Master’s in Social Work with a clear goal to work for Hospice of the Valley (HOV) and to eventually become independently licensed so that I could open up my own private practice. It was my second year and I was fortunate enough to have a connection at Hospice of the Valley. Generally, a master’s level student who interned for HOV was hired to work for them after graduation, so I was thrilled to have a colleague who put me in touch with the Director.

During this busy season I was also in the midst of a divorce and struggling to keep school, a full-time job, and my sanity on the up-swing. Naturally, this was the optimal time for a beastly toothache…the kind that can’t tolerate the cool air that comes with breathing in (AKA surviving). Like most “normal” people, I have a serious disdain for dentists and needles. I went weeks with a throbbing face before I finally gave in and made an appointment to see the sadistic and evil tooth monster. In the interim, I had gratefully run across an old prescription of Darvocet that my ex-husband left in our cabinet, and would take a pill every once in a while so that I could eat (AKA surviving). As I anxiously awaited the dental appointment, I attended school, went to work, and pursued my internship opportunity.

Amidst the daily chaos, I received a call from the Director of HOV to schedule an interview, and I was thrilled. The interview went well and she asked when I could start. I was ready to begin immediately, so she enrolled me in training and I went in for my fingerprinting and drug test as soon as possible. The following week I attended training and fell in love with everything about the company’s philosophy, vision, and mission. Then, the unthinkable (and I literally mean, this did NOT cross my mind for a second) happened.

I was driving home from work when I received a call from the lab. After brief introductions, the friendly man on the phone asked, “do you have a prescription for Darvocet?” I couldn’t see straight as I realized what I had done. My mind was screaming, “this cannot be happening!” I told the lab technician that I had taken my ex-husbands Darvocet a few times for a terrible toothache and that I even had a dentist appointment the following week for a suspected root canal. For a brief moment I actually thought I could talk him into bending the rules for me because it was, after all, an innocent mistake and I had been in a lot of pain and I’m a good person, and he should unquestionably know all of this without ever having met me! Certainly I can make him believe all my good intentions, because this couldn’t be happening to my dream…my career…my 5 year plan!! Let’s get real folks! I was applying for an internship where I would be working with exorbitant amounts of controlled substances every day, so of course my urinalysis was reported as “dirty” and my dreams to work for HOV disappeared with 1 phone call. I will never forget the crushing feeling. I pulled my car over as I was sobbing too hard to safely drive, and I called the friend who had put her reputation on the line to refer me. I slobbered on my phone. I blubbered. I ugly cried and hit my steering wheel and hated myself with fervor. “How could I be so stupid?! How did I not even THINK about this possibility. How was I getting a higher education and still capable of being such a complete and utter clueless moron!?” I truly believed I had destroyed my chances of being in the profession I had been called to and I was beside myself with grief. I had lost my dream.

But, God had a redemption story in mind. From this incredibly disappointing crossroads, I ended up searching for a profession outside my comfort zone. I began a job I NEVER would have considered before, and that job ended up uncovering gifts I didn’t know I had and a passion I thought had burned out long ago. From this unexpected turn of events I was set on a path I never could’ve found nor even looked for on my own, and I was challenged to grow in leaps and bounds and supported in ways that made me feel stronger and more capable than I had ever felt in my life. I can look back now and see that my strengths would not have been utilized in direct practice and my emotional health would’ve been at risk in a hospice environment. What I thought was one of my biggest failures, the most unlucky of events, the curse of my salty birth, turned out to be one of God’s biggest triumphs as he showed me that He always has a plan and His plan is always good. Divine intervention has brought me to where I am today in many ways. This is just one of countless moments where God has steered the ship of my life to a place I could never have navigated. God used the illegal (although innocent) use of controlled substances to change the course of my life for the better. Thanks God! You’re hilarious!

What I’ve observed over and over in my life is that a lack of luck is not a curse. A lack of luck opens the door wide open for God to step in and forge his will in my life. For every trial there is blessing. For every pile of ashes there is beauty.

Thank God I failed my drug test!