One of the hardest parts of being a working mother is carrying a guilt that never seems to leave.
It follows me in the quiet moments.
It sits beside me during long days.
And sometimes, it whispers questions I do not know how to answer.
Every morning, the guilt begins before the day even starts.
I have to leave my bed and my children behind so I can prepare for work. There are days when I leave while they are still sleeping, and there are nights when I return home only to find them asleep again.
On those days, I cannot help but wonder how much I missed in between.
As a full-time working mother with side hustles and responsibilities, I spend most of my time trying to provide for my family. I work because I want my children to have opportunities I never had. I work because bills need to be paid. I work because I want to build a better future for them.
But sometimes, the very thing I do for my children is the same thing that takes me away from them.
There are moments that still tug at my heart.
Moments when I realize that I did not witness every milestone.
Some of their firsts belonged to someone else.
Some memories were told to me instead of lived by me.
And while I am grateful for the people who helped care for my children, there were times when I quietly felt jealous.
Jealous that they spent more time with my children than I did.
Jealous that they knew little things about them that I was still learning.
Jealous because sometimes my children reached for them before they reached for me.
That is a guilt I rarely talk about.
Then there are the ordinary moments that no one sees.
The moments when I come home exhausted after carrying the weight of work, responsibilities, and life’s endless demands.
My children want to talk.
They want to share stories.
They want hugs.
They simply want their mother.
But sometimes, all I want is a few moments of silence.
And there are days when my exhaustion speaks louder than my patience.
Days when I respond too quickly.
Days when I become irritable.
Days when I fail to give them the version of me they deserve.
Those moments stay with me long after the day is over.
What people often do not understand is that working mothers carry two jobs.
One is the work we do outside the home.
The other is the work we carry in our hearts.
Even when I attend seminars, trainings, or meetings, my mind always finds its way back to my children.
When I eat a good meal, I wonder if they have eaten well too.
When I stay somewhere comfortable, I wonder if they are comfortable as well.
When I try to buy something for myself, I often leave with something for them instead.
Because motherhood does not clock out.
It follows us everywhere.
And despite everything, there are still moments when I question myself.
Am I doing enough?
Am I present enough?
Would I be a better mother if I stayed home?
Would they remember my sacrifices, or would they only remember my absence?
These are the questions that quietly visit me when the world becomes still.
But as the years pass, I am learning something important.
A mother’s love cannot always be measured by the amount of time she spends.
Sometimes it is measured by the sacrifices she makes.
By the dreams she postpones.
By the exhaustion she carries.
By the battles she fights quietly so her children can have a better tomorrow.
The truth is, I never wanted to miss any moment.
I never wanted to leave before sunrise or come home after a long day.
I never wanted to choose between providing and being present.
But life does not always give mothers perfect choices.
Sometimes we simply choose the best we can with the circumstances we have.
And if my children ever read this one day, I hope they understand one thing:
Every early morning, every long day, every extra job, every sacrifice, and every moment I spent away from home came from the same place—love.
I was never choosing work over you.
I was choosing a future for you.
And even on the days when I could not be beside you, my heart was always with you.
— Cuddle by Mommy 💙