Mom of the year

I think every mother, at some point, feels inadequate. I'm pretty sure for many mothers, it's a frequent occurrence. Like I should be reading my daughter stories instead of blogging. Or I should have just bought a nail file instead of clipping her fingertip a second time while trying to trim her nails. Or I should be able to get her to nap without throwing her in the car seat and letting the rhythm of the ride work its magic. I get the sense these are pretty normal.

This week though, I took a new foray into inadequacy. And I feel ashamed. But the ever popular Brene Brown says that "shame cannot survive being spoken" and that one way to beat shame is to tell your story. So in the interest of beating shame, here it is: I was careless. And because of it, my daughter got hurt. Thankfully, everything turned out to be fine. Except my psyche. I relive the injury over and over in my head, which makes me nauseated. I think over and over if I had just done things a little differently, it wouldn't have happened. I wonder if there will be any long-term consequences. I doubt myself as a mom. I want to cry.  I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to be a mom or a pediatrician. I am awash in shame. I hate it. I hate thinking about it. I hate writing about it.

I told some co-workers what happened, and the first thing that happened? One of them shared a similar story that happened to her daughter. Everyone nodded understanding. No one judged. No one tried to revoke my motherhood. And I felt a little of the weight lift. Maybe in a few decades, I'll even be able to joke about it.

Shame is a lie. And I know the truth, even if I don't feel it. The truth is I am a good mom. The truth is good moms make mistakes. The truth is I can't control everything. And the truth is that I have a God, a husband, and friends and family that love me no matter what. And I am exceedingly grateful. And the next time I have to put her to sleep by driving, I don't think I'm going to feel quite so inadequate.