Mom guilt and the physician mom: Doing Enough; not Perfection

Last updated on March 15, 2019

Recently, I was enjoying a “mom day” running errands with the kids.

You know, the usual essentials — groceries, school supplies, and espresso coffee drive-through.

At this last stop, the barista made small talk and, seeing the kids in the back seat,  joked about school starting soon and how I must be looking forward to that — “You’ll get your Mom time back!” To which I laughed and relished the rare moment of just being a Mom.

Until one of my kids yelled up, “But, Mom, you work all the time!” 

The previous week, sitting around the dinner table, this same child decided he wanted to give his take on what everyone did that day. We laughed over his version of how everyone spent the day: my husband — “mowed the lawn and did Dad stuff,” his siblings – “played with the dog, played with the iPad.” Until it was my turn.

He pointed an accusatory finger at me, and yelled “Work, work, work!”

Not destined to be one of my cherished family memories.

These episodes, and others, make me wonder how my kids are going to view me, and their childhoods, when they are grown.

In the best moments, I envision them grateful for two progressive parents who defied conventions and stereotypes. Mom worked full-time as the bread-winner, and Dad stayed at home full-time to make sure they were cared for, supported in school, and prevented from carrying out the plans for that zipline they drew up plans for out the top floor window.

In my worst moments, I envision they’ll remember me as that caffeine-addicted woman always at work, always in a rush, and too busy to notice that zipline under construction.

I know from discussions with colleagues I am not alone.

Whether we have a spouse that stays at-home, a nanny, an au-pair, grandparents that watch the kids, utilize day-care, or some combination of the above, we constantly question our parenting decisions and life choices.  Are we doing the right thing?

As Erma Bombeck wrote, “Guilt: the gift that keeps on giving.” 

I don’t necessarily have any answers, but I do have another moment to share that helped make up for the others, and gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, my kids will one day view me more along the lines of option #1 above.

The same child who made the comments above has decided he, too, will grow up to be a doctor.

“But, Mom,” he said, “I might feel kind of lonely.”

I braced myself for what he was going to say next — and to get hit with the next load of guilt.

“Because I might be the only boy – you know, since doctors are mostly all girls.”

So to my fellow physician-moms in the trenches of working mom guilt, I write:

Maybe we aren’t perfect, but maybe, just maybe, we’re doing enough right after all.