From the Diary of a Frustrated Mom
4:17 am: I jolt awake to the ear-splitting screams of my 18-month-old. I fumble for my glasses and I dash into her room like a sleep-deprived superhero. She sits there sobbing in her crib. After a quick diaper check and change, I scooped her up over my shoulder and commenced the classic baby-back-patting ritual, crossing my fingers for a miracle slumber. After a few minutes of swaying and shushing, I start to consider if she’s just hungry. Carefully placing her back in the crib, I dash to the kitchen to prepare some milk for her. I pray to the sleep gods that this will finally do the trick. Finally, I tuck her into bed, but she’s flipping and flopping like a fish out of water. I position myself on the chair beside her, fighting off fatigue as best I can. Fifteen minutes later, she is fully recharged and wide awake, signalling an unexpectedly early start to my day, three hours ahead of schedule. Oh, the joys of parenthood!
12:15 pm: I find myself in a high-level meeting with the CXOs, discussing the organization’s six-month goals and setting expectations for everyone. Suddenly, a loud thud interrupts the conversation, followed by continuous cries. My heart skips a beat, and I swiftly exit the room to investigate. It turns out that my 18-month-old accidentally spilt water, slipped on it, and bumped her head on the table. Thankfully, her nanny and my husband came rushing to assist. I hand over my child to my husband, then rush back to my laptop, quickly unmuting myself to apologize, “Sorry, gentlemen, there’s an emergency I need to attend to, I am dropping the call.” and without waiting for a response, I close the laptop abruptly. I reach out to my little one, holding her close to my heart, checking for any injuries. Relieved that it’s not a major incident, a pang of guilt washes over me as I realize I had to prioritize work over my child. Why must I choose between the two? I’m caught in a whirlwind of emotions and guilt.
6:20 pm: I received a call from my mother-in-law, eager to have a FaceTime session with our little one. It’s heartwarming to witness the joy they both experience during the video chat. They spend a few minutes connecting virtually, even though I doubt my daughter understands much of what her grandma is saying. Nevertheless, the bond between them shines through. Now, it’s my turn to interact. However, for me, it feels less like pure enjoyment and more like navigating a never-ending list of do’s and don’ts with my child. After I hang up, I lean back and contemplate the constant stream of advice from my mom, my mother-in-law, and all others around me. It makes me wonder if everyone perceives me as incapable of raising my child. Am I not a good parent? Why am I constantly under scrutiny and judgment?
8 pm: My husband is out for dinner with his friends, leaving me at home with our little one. After her dinner, she’s happily playing with her books and toys in the living room, and it’s still early enough for her bedtime routine. Our pup has also had her dinner and is peacefully resting in her bed. Seizing the moment, I decided to indulge in a book I started a few weeks ago. I arrange the cushions on the couch, finding a cosy position that allows me to keep an eye on both my baby and our furry companion. As I immerse myself in a few pages, suddenly, my pup starts growling fiercely, and my little one is yanking her tail with all her might. I flip the book aside and jump out of the couch to handle the situation. I quickly separated them and spent the next two hours darting around the house, protecting my pup from my cub.
11 pm: Finally, my baby is peacefully asleep, and my pup has settled down. Exhausted from playing mediator between them all evening, I sit down to have my dinner. Just as I begin to eat, the doorbell rings, and annoyance washes over me. I frown and open the door, uttering in an irritated tone to my husband, “Why did you have to ring the bell? I texted you that the door is open.”
“Why are you so frustrated?” he responds, his brows furrowing.
“She will wake up…never mind,” I trail off, unable to find the energy to complete the sentence. Suddenly, my hunger dissipates, and I no longer feel like eating.
1 am: I lie in bed, composing this post, contemplating the question that has been nagging at me: “Am I frustrated? Why?”
Firstly, I haven’t experienced a peaceful night’s sleep for the past 18 months, leaving me overwhelmed with fatigue. Sometimes, it feels as though I’m turning into a zombie. I’m uncertain how long I can sustain this sleep deprivation without becoming frustrated.
Secondly, my little bundle of joy is growing so quickly. I love and want to spend enough quality time with her because this phase will not repeat itself. However, managing a career alongside caring for a baby presents challenges, and at times, I feel saddened because she gets neglected due to work. Simultaneously, I feel inadequate for not being able to perform at my best in my professional life. It’s like navigating a two-edged sword. I want to have the best of both worlds, but is it too much to ask?
Next, there’s the constant scrutiny and judgment from others. While they may speak from their own experiences, every mother is different, circumstances vary, and parenting styles differ. What worked for them 30 years ago may not work for me today. They cannot step into my shoes and understand what I am going through, so why add pressure to my already hectic life? During moments like these, I lose my confidence and doubt if I am being a good parent, if not a perfect one.
Lastly, once you become a mother, it practically feels impossible to reclaim your identity as a woman. Your life revolves around your little one, and I can’t recall the last time I watched a movie or read a book peacefully in the past couple of months. This lack of “Me-Time” to recharge and take care of yourself truly takes a toll.
Despite all these challenges, I find happiness in this journey and am ready to face everything that comes my way. Juggling multiple responsibilities and maintaining a sense of calm is undoubtedly difficult and all I expect from people around me is to let me be and accept me as I am. After all, it’s easy to label me as a “Frustrated Mother”, but I can’t help but wonder if anyone is willing to lend a helping hand amidst all these challenges.
