This Time It's Personal
When I set out to write a monthly blog about life as a small business owner, I knew I wanted it to be honest about the experience of being a female-led small business. I’ve shared insights on everything from building a team to choosing an accountant. Today, though, I’m wandering away from the practical and into the personal: mom guilt.
Now, much of what I’m about to say may ring true for working dads too; but I’m a mom, not a dad, so you’re getting the mom-lens version.
Let me set the scene. I planned a trip to the ULI Fall Conference in San Francisco (highly recommend). I added an extra day to visit a favorite aunt, which should be a perfectly reasonable decision. But then the counting began… Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… home Thursday, but late. Five days. Five days of missed healthy dinners, bedtime tuck-ins (yes, she’s 17, and yes, I still do it), and the endless reminders: homework, jacket, tasks one through twelve.
Every trip starts the same way, with self-negotiations about arriving later, leaving earlier, and somehow teleporting home in time to make it back in time for (fill in the blank).
So there I was, arriving at my aunt’s around 2 p.m., settling in for a blissful afternoon of catching up, admiring her garden, and enjoying a meal I didn’t make. Also: wine. Sunday afternoon wine is not my routine (Bills games excluded), but with no sporting events, friend drop-offs, or “emergency” laundry runs, I thought: why not?
Did I call home? No. My husband is fully capable (just not my level capable). The phone never even left my purse. Everything would be fine.
But several bottles of wine later, my aunt’s landline rang (yes, an actual landline… who knew?). She answered, thankfully. I could tell immediately it was my husband, and immediately that something was wrong.
Fast-forward, it all ends up well, but first: the phone gets handed to me, and I hear: ambulance… Children’s Hospital… tests… not sure. It’s remarkable how quickly your brain rearranges itself in moments like that. Within 20 minutes I had booked the 11 p.m. flight and was in an Uber back to SFO. If all went well, and if the air traffic controller shortage didn’t sabotage me, I’d land at 8 a.m. 8pm to 8am, time change … 9 hours.
Those next hours were a fog of worry and bargaining with the universe. I was 2,500 miles away. My daughter was in a CT machine. And I wasn’t there; the person who knows her pediatrician’s number, her latest illnesses, the blanket she would want, the questions to ask. I. Was. Not. There. And the guilt came in hard.
She recovered well, and for that I am endlessly grateful. But in the days after, the mom guilt lingered, the fear that this moment would become a childhood memory stamped with “mom wasn’t there.”
So what do we do with these feelings? How do we keep them from holding us back; from our goals, our growth, the conferences, the clients, the site visits, the leaning in (thank you Sheryl Sandberg) that makes us better at what we do?
Life handed me the gift of three children and a career I truly love. That combination comes with sacrifice on all sides. I’ve missed quiet rocking-chair moments, school celebrations, big sports wins, and the chance to be the comfort they needed in certain moments.
But today, looking at my smart, strong daughter, healthy and well, I see the answer. I show her, every day, that what we choose to do with our time and our talents matters. I also show her that, should she choose the path of parenthood, there is nothing as powerful as being responsible for another human. Both things can be true, and both things can be done well. Failures will happen, but so will successes.
Mom guilt is real. I won’t pretend there’s a magic cure. But if you’re feeling it too, give yourself some grace. Self-loathing and regret only pull you away from the moments that matter, being your best self at work and at home. And moms, you’re doing better than you think.
The View From Our Room At Oishei Children’s Hospital, Where the Care Was Top Notch and the Mom Guilt was Real.