I want to express my heartfelt apologies for the necessity of my work commitments.
I regret that I must often send you to bed early, as I’m fatigued from my long day. I’m sorry that when you’re unwell, my initial thought is about whether I can call in sick tomorrow. I feel remorseful that when you’re home with an illness, I may not be the one to care for you.
I wish I were there in the mornings to hear about your dreams instead of being at the office, wishing I could be with you. I feel the weight of my choices when I share a simple lunch with colleagues rather than enjoying our favorite peanut butter and jelly sandwiches together.
When your caregiver tells you I’ll be home soon, you have no idea how intensely I wish that “soon” meant “now.” I’m often preoccupied with adult concerns like budget cuts and professional obligations rather than engaging in imaginative play about butterflies and tea parties with you. I regret that I spend my time ironing work attire instead of racing toy cars across the kitchen floor.
Work often follows me home, and I worry that I see my computer screen more than I see your beautiful eyes. I tend to say, “I just need to finish one more task for work,” when you ask me to play hide-and-seek, and I wish we could savor lazy, rainy mornings together. I’m sorry that weekends feel too brief and that our weekday dinners are often hurried affairs.
It pains me that I miss out on the joy of dropping you off and picking you up from school like other parents do. I have a Pinterest board filled with craft ideas that we will likely never find the time to create together. I’m sorry that I sometimes witness your milestones after they’ve already occurred.
I regret that you hear your other parent and me discussing schedules to coordinate doctor’s appointments, and I wish I could mend your scrapes in person instead of through video calls. I can’t volunteer in your classroom because I’m busy managing my own responsibilities.
Despite my attempts to improve our situation, my efforts to win the lottery have been unsuccessful. I apologize for not choosing a career with more time flexibility or better financial rewards. I truly wish I could be present more often.
Most importantly, I feel guilty for feeling this way. I often cry at night because I struggle with balancing motherhood and my career. I work tirelessly to provide opportunities for you that I didn’t have growing up—family vacations, a college fund, and perhaps a little extra for dress-up clothes and tea sets.
I do this for your betterment, yet it doesn’t shield me from my own feelings of inadequacy. I anticipated the challenges of working while being a parent, but the reality is far more difficult than I imagined. My heart swells with love when I’m with you, yet it feels shattered when I’m apart.
I apologize for feeling remorseful about working. I know you sense my sadness when I hug you a little too tightly at night or hold your hand just a bit longer on our way to the car.
However, amidst my apologies, I am also filled with gratitude. I appreciate your understanding of my need to work. I am thankful that you recognize and cherish the life I strive to provide. It warms my heart that you still call me your best friend, even when it feels like we pass each other like ships in the night.
What brings me the most joy is when you squeeze my hand tightly in return, reminding me of our unbreakable bond.
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In summary, while I navigate the complexities of work and motherhood, I want you to know that my love for you is unwavering. I strive to provide the best for you, even if my presence may not always be felt.