The Unseen Weight of Mum Guilt:Chasing Ambitions, Missing Milestones
Today, I’m sitting thousands of miles away from home, in a bustling foreign city, surrounded by opportunity, excitement, and the very thing I’ve worked so hard for—professional growth. And yet, there’s an ache in my chest that no accolade or promotion can soothe.
Today is my youngest daughter’s first birthday. And it's also my second daughter’s first primary school sports day.
And I’m not there.
The video calls help, of course. I got to see her confused smile at the fuss, the giggles and the reaching out for Mama. I saw my second girl beam with pride as she wore her team colours, running as fast as her little legs would take her. But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t holding the camera. I wasn’t the one she scanned the crowd to find.
This—this—is what they don’t tell you when you’re growing up and being told you can be anything. A doctor. A CEO. A trailblazer. A mother. You can be anything, but often not everything—not all at once, at least. Especially not as a woman.
When men leave for business trips, the world claps for their dedication. When women do it, there’s a pause. A question. A subtle judgment. “Who’s with the kids?” “Couldn’t you have rescheduled?” And worst of all: “Don’t you feel guilty?”
Of course I do. Every moment.
Mum guilt is that invisible baggage we pack alongside our laptops and power suits. It creeps in when we’re away for meetings, deadlines, or late-night brainstorming sessions. It whispers to us even when we’re doing our best—especially when we’re doing our best for ourselves.
All over the world, mothers are made to feel like choosing a career is a betrayal of their children. Like ambition and nurturing are mutually exclusive. We celebrate women who sacrifice their dreams for their families but question those who try to hold both at once. As if striving for professional fulfillment somehow erases the love we have for our children.
And yet, I know I am not alone.
There are mothers in boardrooms, hospitals, classrooms, and studios right now who carry this same guilt. Who smiled through tears this morning as they kissed their kids goodbye. Who tuck notes in lunchboxes and leave behind bedtime stories pre-recorded on phones. We are present in every way we can be—except physically, sometimes.
But here’s the truth I’m trying to hold onto: I am not missing milestones because I don’t care. I am working, pushing, building—for them. For their futures. For a world where they, too, can dream without limits. For a reality where no woman is forced to choose between being a mother and being herself.
So, while I sit here in this unfamiliar place, heart aching for home, I remind myself that love isn’t measured in presence alone. It’s in intention. It’s in effort. It’s in the quiet strength of knowing this guilt means I care deeply—about them, and about the legacy I want to leave behind.
To every mother who’s ever felt torn: You are not selfish. You are not failing. You are showing your children what courage looks like.
And to society: it’s time to stop forcing mothers to choose.
Let us be everything—because we already are.
By Nishu Gunawardana