The maelstrom that is a mother's mind

I have written before that maternal guilt is something I try to avoid indulging myself in too much. Like envy, I find it achieves nothing other than making me feel a little bit off. Of course, despite my best intentions to avoid it, I do, from time to time, succumb and roll around in guilt-ridden thoughts. My new job has triggered an indiscretion and it’s bothered me for a few reasons.

For one thing I have always advocated – to myself as much as others – that motherhood and professional ambition need not be mutually exclusive. There isn’t too much else I believe in quite as fervently as that. I also know first-hand that combining work inside and outside of the home is a happy arrangement for me and my little family. Despite this I would be lying if I said I haven’t harboured some guilt about returning to work whilst Miss L is still a baby.  

When the possibility of this job first arose I was genuinely thrilled. My head spun and it excited me for a variety of reasons; it’s an opportunity to work from a platform I admire, pursuing an agenda I am genuinely passionate about in a role that, I think, will effectively utilise my experience and skills. It’s probably not a stretch to describe it is as something of a dream job. For at least a week I was mentally high on the prospect alone.

After a while though a sinking feeling descended and it didn’t take me long to realise guilt was the culprit. My guilty thoughts came in a variety of shapes and sizes but in a nutshell my unease was this; what sort of a mother would get so excited about a professional opportunity when she has a baby to nurture? The answer, I’ve now discovered, is a mother like me. And I’m pleased to say, I’ve now discovered, I’m ok with that.  At least I am most of the time, and when I’m not I’m going to fake it until I make it (true).

After giving my situation some thought I figured I had a choice; take the job and get comfortable with my decision or turn it down and do the same. I went with the former because I knew the latter would be harder. I’m not sharing with you the reasons I’m now (mostly) comfortable with it because I am seeking your approval. The only approval I need is my own and after doing a little soul searching I’ve decided to grant it. I’m going to tell you the reasons on the off chance that you have faced a similar predicament or think you might in the future.

I should add that despite this navel-gazing work is actually a financial necessity for me; not working was never an option but this means going back earlier than planned. My guilt seemed to stem more from the fact I wanted this job as much as I need it.

Ironically, or maybe it makes perfect sense, it was my two gorgeous girls, the very reason my maternal guilt exists, that made the choice simple. Like any parent I have many hopes and dreams for my children. Namely, that one of them will become an expert in Chinese massage therapy and schedule me in for hour-long weekly treatments throughout my life. I‘m kidding! I’d only want them to follow that path if it’s what they wanted. But what child wouldn’t want to make their mother eternally relaxed and happy?!? Seriously though of all the things I hope they may become, fulfilled, is probably at the top of my list. Well after being healthy, well-adjusted, loved and sheltered from all harm. But fulfilment is a priority because I honestly believe fulfilment is about as good as life gets.  

Fulfilment comes in many different boxes which is why I am eternally grateful to the original feminists. For the fact they gave women a better chance at finding fulfilment by fighting for us to have choices. For the fact they challenged the notion that a woman belongs at home. For the fact that instead of relegating a person to an office or the kitchen on the basis of gender they fought for the individual’s right to make up their own mind.

Despite my gratitude for these things, I am learning, that when it comes to actually walking the walk it’s a bit more complicated. At least it is for me. Because despite the fact I consider Mr G and I equals in every respect, deep down, I obviously hold some unconscious bias. I don’t doubt Mr G’s commitment to his daughters because he is pursuing a career. But I have doubted my own. I don’t question Mr G’s credibility or ability as a father because he has chosen a demanding job. But I have questioned my own. I don’t expect Mr G to apologise to anyone, let alone himself, for wanting the career he does. But I feel compelled to so myself. The truth is I obviously apply different standards to him than I do to myself.

On the one hand it would be easy to pretend that I don’t. Pretend that I am gung-ho enough not to have considered any of these things. That accepting this job was as simple as saying ‘When can I start?’ But, on the other hand, it wouldn’t be true. This is, I think, one of those shades of grey that our former PM Julia Gillard spoke of in her final press conference. Some things are more complicated than black and white and, in her words, ‘require sophisticated thought’. Whilst I can’t lay claim to my thoughts being particularly ‘sophisticated’ this is where the maelstrom that is my mind took me. 

I have often thought how lucky our girls are to have a father like they do. A dad that is doing a job he loves and building a career that will support his family, not just financially, but emotionally, because it fulfils him. And, the truth is, as much as it challenges my natural inclination to say this, they are lucky to have a mum like that too. And so I’ve started applying the same standards to myself that I have to Mr G. Standards, I should say, he has always applied to me. 

I do have ambitions and interests beyond parenting and that is not to the girls’ detriment. It is in their favour. Work supports and sustains me and it helps me support and sustain them. Writing, interviewing people, planning stories, thinking about issues and starting conversations might not achieve world peace but it stimulates me in a way nothing else does. And that certainly promotes peace inside this house.

But, as I said about fifty pages earlier, it was the girls themselves that finally focused my complex and contradictory and chaotic thoughts into sense. If I was to put either Miss I or Miss L into my shoes in 30 years time and they came to me with this choice? If they had the option to get paid to do something that makes them tick whilst also raising their family? I would be thrilled for them. End of story. And so I’ve decided to stay thrilled for myself. Even if, on the odd occasion, I have to fake it.

A quick poll to end a long post; am I alone in weaving this complex web or have you deliberated over these things like me?