Mother’s Day is just around the corner. A day to celebrate motherhood, is a chore for me. I feel responsible for managing and making the day memorable for my children. I feel guilty writing this, having the conversation. The day incites anxiety and stress. A handmade paper card, and clumsily made breakfast shared over the kitchen counter with my children really should do. I’ve been repeatedly asked what I’m planning. So far, I’ve only had the courage to respond with I’m not sure yet.
Guilt means different things to different women. For some it’s going back to work earlier, going to work at all, choosing to be the breadwinner, choosing to stay home, choosing not to have children. Guilting is inherent in the questions women are asked, like do you miss them? Do you wish you did hot lunch, play parent driver? Do you regret never having children? I spend hours scouring research about working mothers; the benefits to my daughter, my sons. My play at self therapy, self diagnosis, anything to help alleviate the guilt.
I was reminded by a friend and mentor recently that we are still on firsts. First woman to hold an office, first woman to do so many things. I can’t shake that thought.
For this mother’s day I am not planning a thing. My children can make a messy set of pancakes, we can enjoy each other. The example I would like to set for my daughter, and my sons’ is celebrating motherhood is rooted in celebrating women. Life is about compromises, and what is important is supporting each other to feed all our identities and purpose. I am passionate about working towards that world; where women don’t judge themselves so harshly.