From the heart of a working mom

My children,

I wish that every night I could tuck you in,
kiss your forehead,
comb your hair after a bath,
but Mommy works, and sometimes a lot.

I have such mixed emotions about working for the well-being of other children while you
go to school all day with a runny nose,
didn't get enough sleep the night before,
and ate yogurt for breakfast in the car because we ran out of time.

Guilt consumes my body when you
cry when I drop you off,
don't want to let go of me,
say, "I missed you today, Mommy."

It actually makes me sick.

They say children are resilient,
that they don't really know,
but you know.
You both know.

So while your teachers get to spend more time with you each day than I do, please know that I'm trying the very best I can. It's not easy for me either. Especially when I think about how my independence was birthed from an early age as I too had a working mother, and also my tendency to not accept help, or shut others out because I didn't need anyone to
achieve,
succeed,
or rise above.
I know there is the potential for you to do that too.

The guilt we place on ourselves is immense, and usually unnecessary, but I think this is a different kind.

You see, the tension of yearning to be with you both, and to help other kids in my work find a sliver of the positive future that you have experienced is important.

I have birthed you both from my body,
and have,
and will
give everything I have to you.

Time,
emotions,
love,
even possessions,
I'd gladly give it all.

But not every kid is so fortunate.
Not every parent is so lucky to have a working mom like I did.
Not every baby is born into a family that stops the world to experience the life that was created.
Not every parent can take maternity or paternity leave without having their finances severely altered.
Not every person knows the difference between surviving and thriving in life.

And that is what God has called me to do here with the short life that I've been given.
I was made to help those children--to care for God's people.

So while I silently suffer in grieving a "perfect" life with just you two, know that what I do is important, and it's necessary. The tears I cry when I come home late totally exhausted are okay, because I will always have room for you. You are from my body, but these other children are from the work of my hands. And sometimes they need hugs around their little bodies just like you do at night.

I'm sorry I can't stay home with you, hire every kind of house help possible to soak up every moment that you grow, mature and develop.
I'm sorry my phone isn't filled with daily pictures of the fun places we go, or the memories we make together.
I'm sorry not every meal is on time or even healthy.
I'm sorry I have little patience after work, or hold you only some of the time.
I'm sorry
and also
I love you.


With every breath that fills my lungs.

I love you.

My heart works overtime for you precious boys, and that will never change, work or not.