You weren't there

This post is for you, Anonymous, and anyone else who would question the love a mother has for her children.  If you are looking for a laugh today, this isn't going to be it, and I apologize, but I write for fun, for therapy and because sometimes I think that my experiences are easy to relate to by anyone, male or female, mom or dad, working or at home.  At the end of the day, if I can look in the mirror and believe that I have done my best to be wife, mother and shaper of my children and their future, that's all that really matters.

Dear Anonymous,

You weren't there every night since the birth of my children when I check on them before I go to sleep.  Every night.  I kiss their sweet little sweaty noggins, whisper in their tiny ears how much I love them and to have sweet dreams and how much I'll miss them all night long. 

You weren't there every night I got up with one of my sweet babies because they were sick, having a bad dream or just wanting another kiss, hug or snuggle.  You weren't there to see me fall asleep with a smile on my face snuggling with one of my beautiful children because I heard them call for mommy and I was there.

You weren't there every night that I missed them traveling for work, feeling guilty because I wasn't home for them.  You weren't with me on the plane when I sobbed because I wasn't able to bring home the breast milk I pumped 4-5 times a day while on a business trip, knowing that it was all for nothing and I couldn't give it to my sweet baby boy who didn't deserve to miss out on nourishment from me.

You weren't there when I cried and cried in therapy over of years of guilt built up because I wasn't home with my children every day.  You weren't there when I started taking antidepressants because I was so despondent about not being a good wife and mother that I thought driving off the long bridge in my car was a better option for my family.

You weren't there every time I dropped my children off at daycare 5 days a week and felt an overwhelming sense of loss because I missed out on their day.  And you weren't there when I picked them up and hugged and kissed them like I had been away from them for months. 

You weren't there my first week on the job as a stay at home mom to see how much of a failure I felt like because I realized that I didn't have the skills to do the job.  Do you know what that feels like?  To realize that the one thing you've wanted since you gave birth to your children is the hardest, most difficult and stressful job you will ever have? 

Do you know how much guilt and frustration I feel because I have been a working mother for years and have missed out on so many important moments in the lives of the most wonderful children God has ever created and now that I have the opportunity to be with them for a few months I realize that I do not have the first clue how to make it?  And the only outlet I have is this blog, my humor and the hope that I am not the only one who feels this way.

You weren't there for any of this, and you never will be.  But I hope that you, and anyone else out there who thinks I am a sympathy mongering unappreciative stay at home mom, can understand that when I feel like I've failed, and for me this is a daily occurence, I use humor to deflect and to put my mind at ease. 

It's a hell of a lot easier to laugh about things than to let them eat you alive until all you can think about is how you can put your car in front of a semi so that your children and your husband can be better off without you.