Being a single mother working remotely from home, I constantly find myself in a tug-of-war between my job and my daughter. Every day, I wait eagerly for her to come back from nursery, dress her up, feed her, and spend as much time with her as possible. But no matter what I do, it never feels like enough. The thought that she won’t be a toddler forever haunts me. She won’t always be this pure and loving; one day, she’ll have her friends and her own life. Right now, she needs me for more than just the basics like story time, bath time, and flash card learning.
I feel torn between working for her better future and being there with her in the present.
This mom’s guilt is like a weight on my shoulders, and it makes me sad. I don’t want to fail in this most important relationship. I’ve felt guilt from failed relationships as a daughter, sister, and wife, and I can’t bear to see that same disappointment in my daughter’s eyes.
I know I’m not alone in this struggle.
It’s a common story among mothers who are trying to balance work and family. Why is it that this guilt seems to fall so heavily on mothers but not on other parents? Through podcasts, blogs, and conversations with fellow moms, I’ve seen so many women give up on themselves to give their kids the best they can.
Not everyone has the privilege of a supportive partner who helps provide care.
When my partner applies for a job, I’ve never seen him mention that he’s a primary caregiver or adjust his work hours based on nursery schedules. He doesn’t change his priorities for the kid’s doctor’s appointments. If he attends one appointment, he’s praised as a present father, while I’m the one making the appointments, planning our child’s bag, and thinking about her meals.
In many Asian families, it’s common for mothers to be the primary caregivers, regardless of their work profile. Even if there’s a nanny or house help, it’s usually the moms who take care of meals and bath times, while fathers get to rest after a long day at work.
Is society to blame for this mom guilt and the burnout that so many mothers feel?
Is it an absent partner to blame for a mother’s burnout?
Or has the idea that moms are the default parents and primary caregivers become so ingrained in us that we perpetuate it ourselves?
I’ve never been one to envy others for materialistic things, but recently, I came across a blog that struck a chord deep within me. The influencer shared moments of her partner carrying her pregnancy pillow, massaging her feet, and taking her out for meals. Intellectually, I know that much of what we see online is curated, often scripted to appear perfect. Yet, despite this awareness, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for that fairy-tale love and support I never received.
It’s not the expensive gestures or lavish lifestyle that I envy; it’s the emotional and physical support that seems so effortless in their relationship.
During my pregnancy and throughout my journey as a mother, I have always craved that kind of presence from my partner. I longed for someone to share the burdens and joys, someone who would be there for me in the small, intimate ways that matter most.
These unfulfilled wishes have created a constant undercurrent of guilt in my life. I feel an overwhelming need to compensate for the absence of a supportive partner by providing even more for my child. I strive to fill the roles of both mother and father, but in doing so, I often feel like I’m failing at both. The weight of trying to be everything my daughter needs is immense, and the fear of not being enough looms large over my every action.
As I try to fill this void, the pressure I put on myself grows. I want to give my daughter the best possible upbringing, but the absence of a partner’s support makes this feel like an insurmountable challenge. My efforts to overcompensate leave me feeling inadequate and perpetually behind, as if I can never truly meet the standard I’ve set for myself.
Her smile makes my day and keeps me going, but it also makes me realize that maybe she’s trying to say, “It’s okay, Mom, you’re doing well,” empathizing with me for not being able to play with her in her dollhouse or make pretend plays more interesting. Every time she sits with her tablet to listen to nursery songs she likes, I feel like I’m not doing enough for her.
This mom guilt is a heavy burden, but I know that I’m doing my best. I just hope that one day, when she looks back, she’ll see all the love and effort I put into being there for her, even if it didn’t always feel like enough to me.
If you can resonate with my journey, please give it a clap and follow my account for more such reflections. Thanks for being here!
—
This post was previously published on medium.com.
***
From The Good Men Project on Medium
 |
 |
 |
 |
***
Join The Good Men Project as a Premium Member today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
A $50 annual membership gives you an all access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.
Register New Account
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
—–
Photo credit: Bethany Beck on Unsplash
