Mum guilt: a de-construction

Flying laundry baskets, toppled bins, and the blustering blows of mum guilt.

Current weather forecast: 5°C. Feels like: -6°C. Wind speed 23 mph, gusts 39 mph. Wind is making it feel cooler.

The neighbours bin has toppled, tell-tale litter tumbling out. My laundry basket lies upside down halfway across the yard. Motherhood should come with a ‘moderate wind warning’ too, and I don’t mean the trapped/ rear-end kind (though babies do have a lot of that). What I mean is a warning about the torrent of mum guilt that sweeps you off your feet and sends you spiralling down a sinkhole of rumination and regret.

I’m only eight weeks in (eleven at the time of editing), teetering uncertainly on the fringes of first-time motherhood. And the mum guilt is relentless. Like the gust that flipped my laundry basket and toppled next door’s bin, it strikes unexpectedly, bowling me over and spilling forth anxieties and insecurities.

It’s no surprise that perfectionist tendencies arise in motherhood, probably in part due to the fierce love involved. The caregiver role commands control over a highly dependent being; we control a child’s bedtime and feeding time, bath time and playtime. Naturally, this commandeering role leaves room for perfectionist tendencies to creep in, fuelled by the (irrational) pressure to not make any mistakes in these prime developmental years. And so, to escape the whirlwind of doubt and dismay, it serves to remind ourselves that Allah is the one who is truly in control, it is by His will a child is securely attached and by His will our parenting is a success.

We know that no human besides the final Prophet (upon him be peace) can achieve perfection. Therefore there is no such thing as the perfect parent. Even a veteran mum of six will misread cues and get things wrong, whether it’s due to a lack of time, knowledge, or anything else. Something will always be amiss. That’s human nature.

Let’s be real - we will all damage our children (whatever ‘damage’ means). We’re utterly infallible and that’s how it’s supposed to be. No matter how much we introspect and dissect, scraping back childhood wounds and scouring parenting theories, we will inevitably mess up. The only perfect parent was the father of Fatima (peace be upon him, may Allah be pleased with her). There’s no point trying to achieve the impossible; all we can do is our give our best in the present and move on.

رَبَّنَا ٱغْفِرْ لِى وَلِوَٰلِدَىَّ وَلِلْمُؤْمِنِينَ يَوْمَ يَقُومُ ٱلْحِسَابُ

Our Lord, forgive me, my parents, and the believers on the Day when the judgment will come to pass. (Qur’an 14:41)

Damaged kids have been hurt - nay abused - repeatedly, long term. Provided we’re doing our best to be loving, responsive, and willing to learn from our mistakes, the kids will be fine. It helps to break thoughts down logically: is this ‘mistake’ (if that’s what it really is) going to matter in a month, a year, or ten years? Is it really going to damage them? Humans are much more resilient than that. Even the little ones.

If babies could talk. (source unknown)

A Believers should strive to adopt an attitude of optimism, harbouring good expectations of Allah. Unrestrained mum guilt can escalate to intense, persistent worries and doubts that detract from the riches of the present. The truth is, my son won’t thrive off an anxious, insecure mother. He needs me at my happiest and most confident, wholly committed to my nurturing role and not ensnared in a web of overthinking and regrets. After all, it’s not the rupture that matters as much as the repair.

Quite literally filling my mum-cup.