Mum Guilt: Why Does It Creep in?

I’ve been thinking a lot about mum guilt lately… who am I kidding, I’m always thinking about mum guilt!

Mum guilt: that persistent voice in your head telling you you’re not doing enough—even when, at times, you couldn’t possibly do any more.

Sabotaging my Own Sleep-in

It was a Friday night, and our son was finally tucked away in bed. I had been coughing my guts up so much that my lovely husband made a late-night run to the pharmacy to get some cough medicine and throat lozenges. When he got back, I took the medicine and went straight to bed. We’ve agreed that on Saturday mornings, my husband will get our son out of bed and I can have a sleep-in. I went to bed thinking about the nice sleep-in I’d have the next morning to catch up on some rest…enter mum guilt.

Our son woke at 6 am and I remember having a vague conversation with my husband about how it had been a rough night, our boy was having issues feeding due to a sore throat. My husband left the room and assured me he would handle the morning routine. I breathed a sigh of relief, rolled over, and instantly fell back to sleep. The next thing I knew, it was 7 am and I’d woken with a start. I felt like I was running late for something and I needed to get out of bed fast to attend this imaginary event. My mind was foggy with sleep, but I could feel the mum guilt seeping in. I should have been out there with my family! I rushed out of bed, got dressed, and emerged from the bedroom—definitely not a beautiful butterfly—and feeling absolutely awful. Partly because I was unwell, but also because I’d woken with a start and rushed out of bed like I was running late for work. Why did I do this? It was my morning to sleep-in and I was well within my rights to stay in bed and get some much-needed rest.

Mum guilt seems to hang around me like an old friend now, and it’s not just the mornings in bed that get me, it’s lurking around every corner.

Up, Up, and Breakfast Will Have to Wait

There are mornings when I’m in the kitchen trying to prepare breakfast for my son and he’s clinging to my leg crying, “Up.” I really just need a minute to finish chopping his fruit with a sharp knife, but when he’s latched onto my leg crying to be picked up yet again, I can’t ignore it. I feel like I’m breaking his heart. I have to stop what I’m doing, pick him up, and delay getting the breakfast ready for the third time that morning.

Where Does Mum Guilt Really Come From?

Why do we feel mum guilt? It can’t just be something that happens for no reason. Where does it come from?

Is it comparing ourselves to other mums at playgroup or daycare? In my experience, it’s not. I have a small, lovely group of mum friends I chat to at swimming lessons. They are all quite humble and none of them are bragging about the amazing things they are doing. We’ve all just been trying to survive the long morning before swimming lessons because there’s no time for a morning nap. I know it’s not them making me feel like I’m not enough.

In my wider friendship circle, I don’t have a lot of mum friends, so there’s no pressure there either.

Is it social media? Possibly. I’ve seen my fair share of parenting reels where a mum has somehow managed to meal prep a week’s worth of amazing nutritious meals for her family…while I’m just trying to figure out what our afternoon snack will be. So yes, maybe a little of my guilt comes from doomscrolling at night—when I should be sleeping and not comparing myself to someone’s almost certainly staged highlight reel.

Is it our own expectations we put on ourselves? For me, this is a big factor. Most of the time when I’m feeling a case of the mum guilts, I can trace it back to me and my own mind. The pressure to always be present, even when I’m not operating at my best, is most often self-inflicted.

And My Cup is Officially Empty

Even mums can eventually have a breaking point. Everything came to a head at 3 am this morning. The painkillers I took before bed had worn off, and I woke to a dull throb in my ears that was telling me I could now add ear infection to my list of problems. My chest muscles are so sore from coughing that I can barely move, let alone pick up my little boy. A visit to the doctor confirmed that I needed antibiotics. The doctor also prescribed taking a break from mum duties as much as possible. He told me to watch at least two episodes of whatever show I’m into right now, and eat my favourite sugary treat. He specifically said not to feel guilty. Mums often get sick because they don’t stop to rest—they keep doing laundry, making sure their family is fed, and looking after everyone, and they forget to take care of themselves. Well tonight, Dad’s in charge and I’m putting my feet up.

The Great Sydney Escape: I'm Packing Light, But There's Always Room for Guilt

I’m working on reminding myself, that I’m allowed to take time out for self-care too. In just over a week, I’m leaving my husband and son at home, and flying to Sydney to catch up with some old friends. I’m so excited for this trip, but I also know that there will be a shadow of mum guilt hanging over the weekend. I’m going to be missing my son the whole time and I know this will sometimes make it hard for me to relax and let go. In the days leading up to my departure, I’m going to be feeling mixed emotions—excitement, nervousness, sadness and then back to excitement again. I haven’t even thought about packing or what outfits I’m going to wear yet! Luckily, I have a very good friend over there organising my weekend’s activities because, I don’t even know if I’d have the mental capability for that.

I know hugging my son goodbye will be devastatingly tough. As soon as I get in that Uber, the guilt will be lurking. I’ll wonder if he realises I’m leaving? I’ll worry he thinks I’ve abandoned him and that I’m not coming back. But, I keep telling myself, it’s ok to take this break. I haven’t had one since my son was born, and I most definitely deserve this. My son will be fine, if not better without me. He can get clingy when I’m around, but when he’s with his dad (the fun one), he has an amazing time. My husband will survive too—they might live off sandwiches for the weekend, but that’s totally fine. And me? I’ll be filling up that metaphorical cup (although mine might come with ice and a little umbrella), and trying to remember how to have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around nap times and bowel movements.

I’m going to come back refreshed and re-energised…despite the drinking I’ll do with my friends. I’ll arrive back in Perth excited to be reunited with my family and ready to jump back into parenting duties. A little time off for myself to fill my own cup (with gin, obviously) means I can keep being the best mum I can be.

Honestly, I think my mum guilt will always be there. But maybe that’s not a problem. The guilt comes from my love for my son and always wanting to do what’s best for him. And is that really something to feel guilty about?