Under Pressure Part 2

I’ve decided the definition of parenthood is feeling responsible for everything your child does or doesn’t accomplish regardless if you had anything to do with it. The reason I know this to be true is because my daughter didn’t even live with me until 4 months ago, and I still feel that way! I have had absolutely no control over anything that has or hasn’t happened to her in her life and every time ANYTHING good or bad happens I feel completely responsible.

It’s crazy. It really is. I’m putting pressure on myself to “undo” while “adding to” 15 years of life experiences in Hyderabad India as an orphan. I think the majority of the pressure comes from myself, and the rest comes from the invisible audience of judgmental bystanders that don’t really exist other than in my mind. Well I’m sure some exist. There are some people that love to judge others (been there done that unfortunately) and there are some parents that love to judge other parents. I know one thing. I’m never judging another parent for as long as I live. If your child is a functioning citizen of the world, says thank you, and can make toast than you deserve a freakin medal.

Right now, we are trying to make up for 15 years and it’s tough. Our daughter has tutoring for an hour twice a week, an individualized reading program at school, violin lessons, horseback riding lessons (weather permitting), and once a week she attends a little art class. This is all in addition to her doctor appointments and physical therapy. Even though that sounds like a lot it’s really not even the main source of my mommy anxiety.

What is a street sign is... yep…. a street sign. (cue panic attack)

Why is it cold every day? Is the sun coming? Yes, the sun might come out today but it will still be cold. Why? Well in America we have seasons and right now it’s Winter. What seasons? (cue panic attack)

Why do babies breastfeed? Do dogs breastfeed? Do cats? How does the baby get in the stomach? (cue panic attack)

What is an address? (cue panic attack)

Everything from airplanes to the dry cleaners to responding with “hi” when someone says “hi” to you is a new concept to her. I’ve never had to exist so moment to moment as I do now. If I even think about next week or where she’ll be in a year academically and socially I start to have heart palpitations. Wish I’d have metabolic palpitations instead.

You’d think since we just met our 15-year-old daughter that I would be free from the burden of mommy guilt but I’m not at all. I feel guilty for every single thing she experienced that was negative up until this point in her life. Every. Single. Thing. I was 20 years old when she was born, my husband was 12, and we could barely afford our dog at the time but we should have been there?!?

One of the precious jewels of many SCH foster moms gave us photos from Richa’s entire childhood on a jump drive when we left Hyderabad. Over Christmas break she started putting her photos in albums and showing us (and anyone else that had an hour to spare) her life story. We tell her every time she shows us her photos or mentions a memory that we wish we could have known her then. Well I tell her and her dad cries. If we had raised her from birth I have no doubt I would still be plagued with mommy guilt, but it would be over first world problem stuff like not writing notes in her lunch box, pushing her too hard in sports, or being absent during classroom holiday parties. Mommy guilt is just part of the mommy makeover I’m afraid. Maybe some women are immune? I wish they would write a blog.