Mother's Guilt

Like most parents I know, I want (desperately) to be a stellar mother.

But as my perfectionistic tendencies would have it, I am never "good enough". I am never the lady with well-done hair, glowing skin, pretty clothes, and a flat tummy - who I see in the glossy pages of motherhood magazines. On some mornings, I wake up looking like a bloated version of the Bride of Frankenstein in ratty PJs. I don't make as much milk as some mothers do (my freezer has had no frozen milk stock for ages) and I thought breastfeeding (directly latching) was a painful torture. I could never quite understand how some women could look so happy and calm breastfeeding their little ones on the go. (My boobs are hurting even while I contemplate on the idea.) I am never as tidy and clean as my mother-in-law, never as organised, never as particular as she is about nappy-changes, and never as engaging. (Sophie seems to laugh more when she is with her grandma.) Being an introvert, I sometimes am at a loss to find enough words to verbalise my thoughts (I could write Sophie a long letter anytime). I fear that she might take my occasional periods of silence to mean that I am disinterested in her. I wonder if I am present enough, if I talk enough, if I pray enough, if I do enough - in order that she grows into a well-rounded, secure and confident adult. I am emotional, prone to mood changes and tearful sighs.

I crave time off alone (and since we moved in with Ben's parents, I am out nearly every week day afternoon for some space of my own). A thriving career like that of some mothers I know. Academic pursuits like those of my scholarly peers. Coffee meet-ups with close friends. Traveling alone. Wine. Movie/date nights with my hubby - guiltless ones. And I kinda miss my singlehood, haha.

I am never perfect - or half as perfect as I want to be. But I hope, it's still ok.

God, in Your mercy, let me be a great mom. Because I really hope to be one.