Tonight, while I was right next to him, my Boy fell against the toilet (out of the mouths of moms, right?!) He was crying, and I kept telling him that he was fine, but later I saw that his eyelid was red and puffy =( He must’ve bumped it when he fell, but I didn’t see it happen.

guilt.

This week, Husby was out of town. For the whole week. 5 full forever long days. I didn’t get any work done during the day because The Boy refused to nap (truly. He napped on Wednesday. That is all.), so everything work-related waited until after 9pm.

guilt.

The Boy was all off-kilter during the solo parenting week. Super irritable, extremely clingy, much screaming and crying… which made for a couple mommy meltdowns. One day in particular was especially awful. I was just touched out (you know what I mean?), we’d been up from 5-630am and then up for the day at 730am, it was now 2pm and The Boy hadn’t yet taken a nap. He was deliriously tired, but fighting it and me and everything else. I nursed him to sleep, bent to put him in his crib, and he lost.his.stuff. and so did I. I burst into tears at more of his, left him in his crib, called Husby, and wept that he needed to come home now. I let the Boy scream in his crib for 40 minutes. Even though he was safe, had a dry diaper, was just tired and mad, and I needed a few minutes without him…

guilt.

The time my sweet Boy rolled right off the couch and fell onto the floor.

guilt.

I yelled at Husby because he’s the only one I trust with my awful.

guilt.

I ate pie and cereal for supper.

guilt.

I haven’t done my PT exercises in weeks. I’m still having pain from my scar (from The Boy’s birth), and now I’m costing us $$$ for therapy that I’m not consistently doing.

guilt.

This post was supposed to be up last Tuesday.

guilt.

I haven’t cracked my Bible in a long time.

guilt.
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It eats at my heart like rust, working its way from the outside in. It steals my joy, confidence, peace. It’s a leech, attaching to the fullest parts only to suck them dry and painful. Guilt is a dirty word that I hate, tell others to accept freedom from, yet I succumb to its siren song daily. I wonder if, as a working mama, I will ever be free from it, finally releasing to the One who never guilts, only graces. Because there is always more – more to dos, more to gets, more to earn, more to give, more that I didn’t get to. There is always going to be more than I am able to do.

And maybe that’s the point.

That from me – us – there will forever be boxes unchecked, bumps and bruises, harsh words, poor choices, not enough given. I notice. I remember. But my Husby doesn’t keep track of the yelling. The Boy touches my face gentle and grins big when I cry. They forgive, and they do forget. Why can’t I?

I – we – need a touch more of that spirit, don’t we? We need to grasp the forget part of forgive. {aside: I don’t always believe that forget is an aspect of forgive. In this instance, on the topic of self-guilt, I do think it is. End aside.} As mamas – women – people, we must somehow figure out how to take a shower and let the yuck wash off, learning from it but not retaining it forever. Letting go that which doesn’t make us better. Yes, there are lessons to learn. Yes, there are examples to follow. Yes, there are things we truly shouldn’t do again. But the guilt that comes from that which is beyond our control, or from the things we think we should be doing and aren’t, or from the accidents, or from the little things that truly don’t matter… from this guilt, we need to be freed.
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In Him, there is enough to fill the gaps, heal the wounds, soothe the hurt, assuage the guilt. May that be all that washes over us this week.

*this post is part of a weekly series for (in)couragers. click here to learn more, and here to join the (in)couraging working new moms group.


– anna
{girl with blog}

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{girl with blog}
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