The guilt trap

Mother's guilt. It's been striking me an awful lot lately. I'm usually tough on myself anyway, but since becoming a mum my inner critic has scaled new heights. However, let me be clear that my self-judgement is just that — focused on me; I would never hold any other mum out there to the same standards.

Some of the baby care choices I've made occasionally give me a twinge of guilt, but the guilt over these things is fleeting. Cloth nappies versus disposable nappies is a good example. Truthfully, cloth nappies were never an option for our family. When you consider how many nappy changes you do in a day, multiply that by seven days in a week, multiply that by 52 weeks in a year and multiply that by three years, it adds up to a lot of hand rinsing plus machine washing plus drying! I do worry about toxins and nappy rash, and I do feel guilty about adding to landfill, but for me, convenience won.

Then there are the baby care choices that surprised me. I am extremely wary about packaged baby food, and opt to make my own wherever possible. This was a revelation for me. As an adult I indulge in my fair share of packaged food. I don't study the ingredients label on my foods, but when it comes to Laura, I read them carefully. Yes, I do give her packaged stuff (that's been through my vigorous screening process) when we're out and about — a convenience thing again — but at home it's all homemade, so I know exactly what's in it. Despite this, my mother's guilt kicks in when she's consumed a couple of packets over a few days. I mean, how much more work would it really be to put homemade food in a microwave-safe plastic container, take it with me, and find a microwave? Alternatively, I could take a banana, bowl and fork and mash it up for her on the go, couldn't I?

But most of all, my mother's guilt rears its head in a big way when it comes to finding a balance between play time for Laura and mummy time. Now nine months into my thirteen months of maternity leave, I'll admit my mind is craving intellectual stimulation, and the need to achieve something more in an eight-hour period than just a trip to the supermarket.

Once the daily household chores, errands and appointments are completed, I'm left juggling the time I spend on me for me (writing, for example) and the time I spend playing with Laura, teaching her, helping her explore her world and simply enjoying her. Of late, I've been plagued with an extraordinary amount of guilt over my not spending more time teaching her to clap, wave, mimic sounds or push herself up to a sitting position. Over not singing or reading to her as much as I'd like to. Our Baby Clinic nurse and I are in agreement that Laura is a quick study, and while she is developing nicely under my current amount of guidance, she would really lap up and enjoy additional, fun stimulation (and yes, we did agree that although I am the mum and therefore biased, she on the other hand is completely impartial and objective). If I took more time to play with Laura, would her world be enriched? And more importantly, would she be having more fun?

My husband insists that I cram too much into a day. He encourages me to take more time for myself, and to take more time to do fun things with our daughter, although he's also adamant that I am doing an exceptional job when it comes to her, that she is happy, healthy and thriving. So where is my guilt coming from? I've worked out that it boils down to my desire to excel and achieve in all areas of my life. Why can't I be the perfect mother and wife, who takes all the time in the world to care for her little one, while running our household (I am, after all, at home all day), looking after our family and following my own intellectual pursuits? I am a successful editor and project manager in the fast-paced publishing industry where scheduling and being organised is a way of life — my current gig should be a piece of cake!

Babies, however, are unpredictable. Schedules get tossed out the window. A nappy mishap, an early or late morning wake-up, even a bout of hiccups can leave me playing catch-up for the rest of the day. Prioritising becomes a necessity, and some days the blog entry I've been working on for two weeks, or the pile of washing that's been staring at me for a couple of days, sadly wins out over play time. Cue my mother's guilt.

Despite my guilt that suggests the contrary, I truly believe that the more time I take for myself, the better able I will be to take care of Laura. The rational part of my brain says Laura is coming along great with what I've been doing so far. Our Baby Clinic nurse's suggestion was that Laura is at a perfect age to soak up additional teachings, not that I'm not doing enough. Much as I'd like to do less housework, it's a part of life, and one way to look at it is that I'm teaching her a valuable life lesson. Discussions with other mums, newspaper articles and blog entries reveal that I am not alone when it comes to the special kind of guilt only a mother can feel. So I will take comfort in solidarity and will try to give my high-achieving self a break.