Well, I have been quietly nudged to do this, and after reading a friend's blog, I was inspired to share a part of my fiction novel that may give some a glimpse into the guilt that so quickly adheres itself to motherhood. Please know, my novel is a work-in-progress and I actually would love any constructive criticism if you feel led to do so! To set the scene, the protagonist is frustrated with herself for the times she gets annoyed with her toddler for toddlerish things; times when she grows weary of the late night wakings, the pushing aside of quality time for selfish reasons....
"The wallowing in guilt devoured her until she could no longer peacefully rest her head at night. Often, she threw back the covers and sat in a dark living room trying to erase the disappointing episodes from the past day, by flipping through a magazine or baking a batch of midnight cookies...anything to distract her from a downward spiraling guilt trip.
Too seldom did Gwyn get on her knees and ask the good Lord for strength and forgiveness. Too seldom did she realize that the next day was new, and little James would love her just the same or more, with a sweet refreshed smile in the morning light.
How could something so precious as this gift of motherhood, bring me such turmoil? Why am I consumed with worry and regret? She was flabbergasted with herself. It was so easy to forgot the joy and sink into the stagnant waters of monotony. She sensed the fall of Eve crawling into her tumultuous mind, creating the expectation that there was something better. Even though her heart’s desire was fulfilled in her role as a mother, her mind deceived her into thinking she was missing out on something more the world had to offer.
Some days she felt like she screamed inside her head from dawn until her little boy’s head laid gently on his pillow that night. Her peace was drowned out by the constant struggle of not knowing exactly who she was, besides a long list of chores. God was far away in this season. She didn’t have the energy to go to Him because the challenge to survive crushed any faith she had that the Almighty could possibly come to her aide. Her soul cried out in loneliness at those times.
Gwyneth felt broken to the core after a temper tantrum from James, or a pile of laundry that never lessened. Those days were dark. The trivial, unimportant tasks, built up chains around her strength. Tears were frequent and the throbbing ball in her throat was more and more difficult to push away. She knew her life was important in theory. She was raising a boy to be a man. Did God really know what He was doing-- entrusting this enormous task to her? The doubt grew more with every breath she breathed in this role. She hoped her son would benefit fully from her best, and be unaffected by her worst. "