On Being a Working Mom - Simply Elliott

Earlier this week I returned to work after 12 weeks of being away and being home with my little tiger. It’s crazy to think that it’s already been that long! I was extremely fortunate to be able to take as much time as I did, and also to be able to work from home a bit while I was away so that I could remain connected.

Heading back to work has been an interesting experience. It’s been both harder and easier than I thought it would be. Harder to leave her at day care than expected (I literally cried the whole first day). Yet easier to get back in the swing of things at work than I could’ve imagined. It’s a balancing act this thing of being a working mom. Recently I’ve learned that no matter what you do in life people are going to have opinion about it. All throughout my pregnancy this is quite evident. And now that Emma is here, it is again. Judgment seems to flow more freely when you become a parent. People have opinions on everything – how you gave birth (vaginally or C-section), how you feed your child (breast-feeding or formula), what you do with your life (staying at home or working elsewhere), and even what diapers you choose (cloth or disposable). I mean, everything. And their opinion, is of course, the right one. And while knowing that everyone has an opinion and that people are judgmental doesn’t change what’s best for our family, it also doesn’t change the fact that emotions can come into play. It’s hard enough as a new parent trying to determine what’s best for your child, then add on top of that the scrutiny of outsiders – well it makes for an emotional time.

More than once since I dropped Emma off at daycare that first day have I spent the majority of the day in tears. Wondering if I’m a bad mother for wanting to go back to work. Wondering if I’m a bad mother for wanting her to be in daycare to be exposed to other kids and learning opportunities. Wondering if I’m a bad mom for supplementing breastfeeding with formula. Wondering if I’m a bad mom because I’m not pumping overflow to be able to stock pile or donate. Wondering if I’m a bad wife because all the laundry and all the dishes are not clean all the time. And wondering how someone so tiny can have such a huge impact on my life and teach me the beauty of love more than she has… I can’t imagine life without her and I never knew that I could love someone so entirely. I mean, every time I look at her my heart just melts. Every time she smiles at me my world stops. So I wonder these things because I want the very best for my tiny sidekick.

And if I’m honest with you, I’m tired. I’m tired of wondering what other people think. I’m tired of wondering if I’m terrible at this new job called motherhood just because I’m not doing it like the rest of the social media world. And I’m tired of wasting my energy and emotion on feeling like a failure. While I most certainly will continue to crave encouragement – I’m learning to let go of all those doubts and remember that there is no “right” way to be a parent when you love them beyond compare. The worst thing you could ever do to a new parent is to tell them they’re doing it wrong just because they’re not doing it the way you would.

So to the mom out there who feels discouraged, remember you’re doing it “right”. Loving your child looks unique. Loving your child looks like snuggling them, meeting their needs, and making memories. Loving your profession doesn’t mean you love your child any less. You can follow your passion and be a great mom. Pumping is a pain in the butt and not everyone shoots out a freezer full each day – don’t let this define you. And formula is not the devil. Remember to worry less about the laundry and dishes being clean and more about spending those precious moments with your little one – the chores will get done, and a little organized chaos never hurts. Life is too short wonder if you’re doing it all wrong simply because of the opinions of other people. Embrace your motherhood and find those who will encourage you along the way as you love your tiny sidekick.