Mother Guilt

Recently a dear friend and fellow therapist put these questions out to a group of mamas..

What is your relationship with mother guilt?
How does she show up in your role as a mom?
How has it changed over time? Past, present and future ideas of guilt?
What is the message of your guilt?

And I put this assignment off for a very long time.  Ugh.  Mother guilt is the worst.  She says "I am not doing enough to get my kids home, and I am abandoning them."  Four years of waiting on my boys allows a lot of time for more guilt to pile up.  So I share this very vulnerable place in me with sincere hopes that it says to even just one other woman, "You're not alone."  There are all types of mamas - biological kids, adopted kids, waiting for kids, struggling with infertility, kids grown, kids passed away, have no contact with kids, on the list goes.  And we all have this in common - GUILT.  And I truly hope as I share my guilt story, you can share whatever your mother guilt story is as well.  And let's set ourselves free.

My name is Laura Ramey, and I have Mother Guilt.  My past relationship with mother guilt is that I have never been a woman who was dying to have a baby. What is wrong with me that I don't long to have a child growing in my womb?  Where is that mothering bone in my body - or am I missing it? And then I met my boys in Haiti. I knew instantly they were mine. And it made sense why I hadn't longed to get pregnant. I still feel guilt every now and then that I'm not being fruitful and multiplying by making a little Todd and Laura combo, but that guilt pales in comparison to the present guilt I feel of being in my Williamson County home cooking my organic chicken while my 3 sons eat another bowl of rice and beans in their little orphanage dining room while we all wait on this crazy adoption process to be completed.

I feel guilt that someone else helps Wendy write his alphabet, because he writes his letters backwards or upside down.  I want to be the one helping him.  I feel guilt that when Woody stutters and the other kids make fun of him, I can't hug him and tell him how I proud I am that he is learning to read.  I feel guilt that Wilnes is in puberty and has sexual thoughts and feelings he doesn't understand, and I can't help him make sense of it.  I feel guilt that I'm sitting here with my cozy blanket around me, candle lit, and a glass of wine while my children are getting ready to lay their bodies to sleep on urine-soaked mattresses, because they wet the bed so often - because they are traumatized, scared, lonely.  I FEEL GUILT.

I feel guilt that over a year ago I walked into the office of the woman that held the pen to sign off on our papers, and I couldn't convince her to sign. She told me I couldn't handle raising 3 boys.  She may be right.  And I feel guilt about that.  I feel guilt every time I have to say goodbye.  I bring all this love, joy, laughter, toys, gifts, food into their lives for 4-6 days at a time and then drive back to the airport alone, leaving us all in tears waiting for someone to give us a f'ing answer about when we get to be together for good.  And now I feel guilt for using the "F" word, because someone reading this might think I'm not being Christian enough or trusting God's timing enough.  Every time I say goodbye it's like I've abandoned them again.  There is no amount of bubble gum, peanut butter, and hip-hop music I can bring with me to lighten this sadness for us.  I am helpless and powerless, and I feel guilt thinking somehow I should be able to be more help-FUL and power-FUL.  And for crying out loud, I'm a therapist, so then I feel guilty for not knowing how to handle it all!

So Mother Guilt certainly has her not-so-pretty little fingers wrapped around me pretty tightly.  And I'm learning to stop, take deep breaths, F-bomb if I need to, and then ask for lots of grace and help from my Heavenly Father (and other people who are willing to enter the craziness with me).  It's truly the only thing that brings me peace. I realize when I strive for "super mommy" I miss the really good stuff that God can do out of mess and chaos.  I picture myself as the clay in the Potter's Hands.  I keep falling apart, but He keeps putting me back together.  Mother Guilt can break me, but He makes me new again....and again.  And He is parenting all of us (more on that in my other blog post on "parenting from afar" - click here).  When I remember I'm not parenting alone, Mother Guilt can't grip me so tight anymore. It's too much to carry by myself - and I can always tell when the Mother Guilt hits the hardest is the very time I'm attempting to carry it alone.  So in a way she's a bittersweet reminder to reach out for help and connection. 

What are your answers to these questions?  You're not alone, brave woman.