Maybe I Belong Here Too

I didn’t realize how many assumptions I carried about motherhood until I walked into the library today.

I love my work as a therapist. It gives me a deep sense of purpose, and I’ve realized I’m happiest when I have both meaningful work and motherhood. I also realize how lucky I am that I get to have both. Society often focuses on the sacrifices made by working parents, but there are just as many sacrifices made by parents who stay home. Neither path is easy, and both are acts of love.

My son is 9 months old now and today my husband and I took him to a local library to play with some other kids on my day off. I wasn’t expecting to leave the library having learned something about myself. I felt immense gratitude that my baby had both parents watching him learn to socialize and become independent. As a therapist, I watched with amazement as my son showed signs of secure attachment. He started close by, quietly observing his surroundings. Little by little, he crawled farther away. Every so often he’d look back to make sure we were still there before continuing his adventure. Ifelt like I was watching him realize that he belonged there just as much as any other kid. There are no words for that feeling. 

I didn’t realize until we left though that I had spent much of that hour unconsciously comparing myself to the other mothers.I immediately assumed that if a mom was there on a Monday, she must be a full-time stay-at-home mom—and I realized later that I had no idea whether that was true. I even found myself wondering why some babies seemingly clung to their moms more than my baby did. Apparently my therapist brain went offline for a minute (always humbling), because secure attachment is kind of the goal. And assuming that every mom there on a Monday was a full-time stay-at-home mom? That was my own bias speaking. After we left, when my husband asked how the experience had been for me, he helped me realize that maybe some of them were working moms on their day off too—just like me.

That realization made me wonder how many of the stories I’d been telling myself were actually true.

From my son’s perspective, he simply had both of his parents there, delighting in him as he played.

At first, I thought my feelings had everything to do with the cultural messages surrounding motherhood. But as I reflected, I realized they were actually about the hidden beliefs I carried myself. We compare ourselves using stories we invent about other families.

Looking back, I don’t think today’s comparisons started at the library.

When my son was first born I used to say things like “my husband is the better parent because he’s so patient with him.” Instead of taking that voice at face value, I eventually got curious about where it came from. I realized that I wasn’t necessarily complimenting him—I was diminishing myself. A couple of months ago I stopped saying that because, first of all, there’s no reward for who’s better. Second of all, shouldn’t more love and patience be nothing but good for my son? I realized that I was externalizing my insecurity when I said things like this. I think I was punishing myself for enjoying my job while also being a mother. Instead of simply admitting that I liked my work, I convinced myself that my husband was the “better parent.” As if loving my career somehow disqualified me from being a good mom. 

No one was doing that to me, though. I was doing that to myself.

But I spent 6 years in school and 2 years in training after school to become a therapist. I own my own private practice. Why did I expect motherhood to erase a calling I’d spent nearly a decade building? Why did I assume loving my work somehow meant I loved my son less?

My son doesn’t need the “better parent.” The truth is, there is no such thing. He doesn’t need one parent who sacrifices everything while the other pursues a career. He needs two parents who consistently show up, delight in him, and encourage one another to become fully themselves. That’s the kind of family I hope he grows up believing is possible.

As we walked out of the library, my husband looked at me and said, “You’re a full-time mom just like any other full-time mom.”

For some reason, that was exactly what I needed to hear.

Maybe that was the real gift of today. As my son realized he belonged here, I realized that I belonged here too.