Mama Guilt

There are few things that I've ever felt truly guilty about as a mother. Sure, I make stupid decisions sometimes, and I mess up. Fodder for therapy. And I do feel a decent amount of guilt for working. But at the end of the day, I know with that one I'm making the best decision for my family, even if it means some sacrifice. But this weekend...well, I think this is the first time I've really felt tremendously guilty--like I really made the wrong decision, and that this time it's bad enough for me to not just chalk up to typical parenting folly. I'm not really sure why this time it feels so different. Within a couple of weeks everything will be right as rain, and my kids will probably never remember it (Emma certainly won't). I think what's making the difference this time is that the decisions I made make a statement about me as a parent, and I don't like that statement. Or we can chalk the whole thing up to stress and exhaustion and sleep deprivation and call it a day. Either way, I feel really uncomfortable.

I just wrote out the whole story of the last few days, then thought better of it. The how and why doesn't matter. What matters is that in an effort to prove a point and try to be all things to all people, I failed my kids, particularly Ben. I drove him into the ground. Not intentionally--but in the midst of everything I failed to pay attention to how poorly he was doing. My most important job on this planet is to protect and care for my kids, and I failed to do that. He should have been my first priority, and he wasn't. And it's killing me. I hate myself for it, and I don't know how to make it right.

Motherhood is hard.