Guilt – The Lurking Monster

Guilt. I guess that’s one emotion I shall have to learn to either befriend, or to be wary of. I had fair warning, of course. Friends, books, articles, social media – every one of them literally scream out loud about this common enemy of all working mums. What I had NOT realized was exactly how early this monster shall come knocking at my door.

Quite an unexpected encounter it was, too. It was the morning after one of those reaaaally long nights where I’d been up for nearly three-quarters of it, such that the only thing I craved at that particular moment was as simple as a few minutes (or hours, or days!) of shut-eye. Unfortunately, as all new mums know, raining in the midst of an Indian summer is more likely than getting to sleep when you desperately need to. Baby N (that’s my boy, sorry for the hurried introduction!), surprisingly energetic after the same long night, was extremely inclined to break out into pitiful cries at the exact moments my eyes tried to call it a day. Finally, after three or four such futile attempts, I had no choice but to settle for the next best alternative: a hot cup of tea.

I had barely managed a sip when the inevitable happened yet again – baby N started literally bawling in hunger. Instinctively, I did put the cup down; but the fatigue and resignation must have shown up on my face, for his nanny – with a shake of her head, bless her- started consoling him to stay put for just a few minutes more while poor mummy had her cuppa. I needed no second prompting, of course; proceeding to empty off the cup nearly as fast as my scalded tongue would allow.

Nearly, because I won’t lie. I did take a few seconds more than what was absolutely necessary – not to savor the taste, but to simply let my brain come out of the fog of the last few hours. I thought a few seconds wouldn’t really matter.

Exactly how wrong could I be.

Teatime over, I turned to N, arms outstretched, and … oh shit. There he was, the bawling kiddo – now fast asleep on nanny’s shoulder.

My heart sunk.

“He…he fell asleep?” I stuttered.

Nanny smiled, sympathetic. “It’s ok,” she assured me, “he musn’t have been that hungry anyway.”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was when the enemy struck its deadly blow.

Oh man, rarely had I ever felt this guilty before. Here was my tiny son, my bundle of joy; so utterly helpless, so completely dependent on me for literally everything; hungry, seeking but a few minutes of my time … and what did I do? I chose this damned tea over him!

My brain, which had only moments ago been befuddled from lack of sleep, was instantly back to working overtime; sending wave after wave of immense guilt to drown my conscience. I sat there by the edge of his bed, as if willing him to wake up so that mommy could make amends and beg forgiveness … but no. There was no going back.

Kiddo slept on peacefully, blissfully unaware of mommy’s inner battles as I waited, and waited, and waited; completely crushed, blaming myself every single moment for this act of supreme selfishness.

And that, dear ladies, is how I fell victim to this lurking monster.

P.S. N did wake up in ten minutes time, promptly drifting back to sleep after barely five minutes of feeding. So you see how wicked the enemy actually is.