Parenting
Cultivating Confidence as a Parent
I once believed that having children wouldn’t drastically alter my life. I envisioned myself continuing my full-time career, enjoying nights out with friends, and never having trouble securing childcare. If my children fell ill, I imagined Grandma or Grandpa would be readily available to pick them up from school. My partner and I had plans for annual family vacations, along with an adults-only getaway each year. I pictured myself confidently wearing heels to work until I was well into my nineties, and I thought going without makeup would be out of the question. Regular salon visits and appointments would be seamless, and weekends would always be an opportunity to rest. I thought my children would never watch shows like Dora, and they would always be impeccably dressed. If I had a daughter, her hair would be styled beautifully, and nightly bubble baths would be a staple along with cherished cuddle time.
However, my aspirations and priorities have shifted significantly since welcoming two children who have filled a void in my heart I didn’t even realize was there. I adore them profoundly, but the truth is, I often feel lost and uncertain in my role as a parent.
When my daughter was nine months old, I decided to stay at home after relocating to a new state—far away from family, friends, and any extra support. I chose this path out of concern for the lack of familial assistance outside of my husband in an unfamiliar town. I was uncertain about finding childcare referrals or a fulfilling job that matched my previous career satisfaction. Staying at home felt like the safest choice at the time, and I thought I could always return to work later.
Nowadays, my days are largely filled with filling sippy cups, wiping noses, and mediating tantrums. When my kids are sick, I often feel as if I am suffering too—not just with a runny nose, but with severe illness, lying on the bathroom floor in despair while my husband is away. Five and a half years later, my partner and I have yet to enjoy our planned adults-only vacation. In reality, we’ve managed only one family trip, as travel can be quite costly. (Update: We recently had our first kid-free getaway, and it was amazing!)
Another financial burden? Childcare. Instead of going out for date nights, I now allocate my babysitting budget toward overdue medical appointments that are often scheduled months in advance. Additionally, women’s clothing can be pricey. My heels have long been retired, replaced by yoga pants and T-shirts—practical, affordable, and easy to clean, especially when I’m rushing into a store like Old Navy while my son cries for snacks. And makeup? That’s a thing of the past.
The reality is, I feel completely out of my depth. Many days, I struggle to keep my head above water in a life I never anticipated. The parenting journey often feels like a constant reversal of expectations. Wasn’t I meant to be at work this morning? Where did those stretch marks come from? Can’t I just call Grandma to help take Layla to the doctor while Jack enjoys his swim class? I love my children immensely, yet this experience is far from what I imagined.
I find myself envious of the confident parents—the ones who seem to navigate motherhood effortlessly. I often feel inadequate. Each night, I go to bed plagued by guilt, reflecting on the day’s perceived failures: my kids spent too much time in front of the TV, we didn’t leave the house, Layla’s hair was unkempt for days, and I forgot to give them their vitamins—again. I find myself writing this while one child naps and the other lies down, grumpy. Guilt is my constant companion.
I feel my children deserve more than I can give. Perhaps it’s because their upbringing differs so greatly from my own, where my grandparents lived nearby. When I wanted ice cream, a quick visit to Grandma’s solved the problem. My children’s grandparents are now miles away. I often wonder if having family close by would boost my confidence and energy levels, allowing me to engage more.
Despite these challenges, I do cherish my moments with my kids. As my eldest starts kindergarten, I am grateful for the five years we’ve shared. Yet, I miss the fulfillment and interactions that come with working. Why isn’t raising the next generation sufficient for me? I guess it’s because I secretly dislike arts and crafts and can’t stand the smell of milk or diapers. I still struggle with the less glamorous aspects of parenting.
Being a parent is particularly tough when you hold onto the belief that motherhood won’t disrupt your life’s equilibrium. If you are in a similar situation, perhaps a former version of yourself (hello, expectant parents reading this while enjoying lunch in office attire), it’s essential to release those expectations. Life becomes chaotic with kids—not just in terms of messes but in how they reshape your world, revealing a profound love you never anticipated. Don’t underestimate your ability to manage it all, but also recognize that maintaining your previous lifestyle may not be feasible.
In a society where parenthood is often portrayed as effortless, we must remember the value of sharing our struggles. I may never fully find my footing in motherhood. As my children grow, new challenges arise, and just when I think I have it figured out, everything shifts. I can’t be the only one feeling this way, right?
Today, I embrace the notion that feeling inadequate in parenting likely means I’m doing something right.
So, if you feel like you’re failing at motherhood, welcome to the club. If you go to bed burdened with guilt every night, know you are not alone. If you haven’t left your home in days due to feeling overwhelmed by your little ones, that’s perfectly fine. Your children will love you unconditionally, regardless of the circumstances.
Becoming a mother often requires letting go of parts of yourself you thought were essential. As I’m discovering, maybe that’s a necessary transformation. Turns out, yoga pants are quite comfortable.
In summary: My kids love shows like Dora, and I’m just a parent doing my best while navigating the chaos of motherhood.
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