Giving children the gift of possibility

Irecently came across a letter I wrote when I was 24 years old and seven months pregnant with my first child. Hormones raging, I began by declaring my love, hopes and dreams for the precious infant in my womb. I ended with a plea for exoneration.

“My beautiful baby, please forgive me if it seems that I’m not devoting my whole self to you — but, one can only love one’s child, like one’s spouse, as much as he loves himself. I will work to love myself and reach my own potential while loving you.”

And so it begins. From the moment the test strip turns positive, we buy baby-care books, interview pediatricians, research car seats and apologize. During this time of awe and wonder, some of us want more. And, at the same time, how dare we ask for more? Isn’t being a mother enough? Maybe. But, what about making our own mark, flushing out our own purpose and reaching for actualization?

As our family grows, we try our best to balance between what we want to do, what we have to do and what we should do. It is a no-win situation. When we focus on any one aspect of our lives, we neglect the others. The only constant is guilt. When we’re at work, we feel guilty for not being home with our pre-teen who has a slight fever. When we’re home, we feel guilty for not answering work emails. Time for ourselves rarely makes the lineup, and for this too, we feel guilty.

Guilt does not discriminate. It digs its claws into mothers with careers they love and those with jobs they need. It strikes those who finagle part-time employment and those who choose not to work. Examining our choices through “should” colored lenses can’t help but lead to blame. In my case, I needed a job. Later, I wanted a career. I was a miserable stay-at-home mom. (I tried it for a few weeks after the cesarian deliveries of each of my three children.) In spite of my love for my babies, I was chomping to return to work. I was better at reading profit and loss statements than reading Dr. Seuss; happier building teams than building Lego houses. And for this, I felt guilty.

I reminded myself, that while most working mothers, like me, spend more time in the boardroom then the classroom; more time on business trips than field trips — we are always there when it matters. We cheer at soccer play-offs and dance recitals, take notes at doctor appointments and parentteacher conferences. With the help of our families, day cares, nannies and partners, we do it all — we just don’t do it all perfectly. We learn to endure unmade beds and dirty dishes. Our children learn to tolerate storebought brownies and Halloween costumes.

Decades later, I learned, we have more to give our children when we are fulfilled within ourselves. And if fulfillment is found by building a career—so be it. If it is found by staying home, working part time or any other concoction — that too is OK. There are no clear rights and wrongs when it comes to work-life balance. Many mothers have no choice; the ones who do must heed their truths.

How I wish I understood this in my 20s. If I could do it all over again, I would toss away the guilt and use the same energy to keep me present in the moment. I would focus on all I could do, rather than obsess over what I could not. I would not apologize. How dare anyone equate the amount of time I spend with my children to the amount of love I have for them.

So, enough with the guilt. Our choices set an example for our children to live their own lives to the fullest — not, fill their lives with the choices of others. By being true to ourselves, we give them the gift of authenticity. By going for our dreams, the gift of possibility.