I had another baby at 40.
And with her, something in me settled. I feel calmer. More present. I don’t panic every time she cries. I don’t question every decision. I feel like I know what I’m doing.
But that peace comes with something I didn’t expect.
Guilt.
Because at night, when the house is quiet and my thoughts grow loud, I wonder…
Did my other kids get the best version of me?
Or did they grow up with a mom who was just trying to survive?
The Unspoken Hurt
When I think about my older kids, I remember being overwhelmed, unsure, anxious. I loved them with everything I had, but I didn’t always know how to show it. Not in the right way. Not in the way I can now.
Back then, I was younger but more afraid.
Quicker to react. Slower to rest.
Too caught up in being what I thought a perfect mom was, to just be a present one.
And now that I’m parenting again with experience, I feel something else creeping in.
Regret.
The Guilt I Carry
No one told me that having another baby could bring healing… and heartache.
Because this time, I whisper more. I slow down. I let the mess stay a little longer if it means soaking in a moment. And I think, Why couldn’t I do this before?
And the guilt hits hard.
Will they remember the stress?
The tired mom? The distracted mom?
Will they ever feel like she got more of me than they did?
What I Know Now
Here’s what I’m starting to understand.
I wasn’t a bad mom back then.
I was a becoming mom.
I was learning how to love through exhaustion.
I was fighting through anxiety, through pressure, through the weight of trying to do everything right.
And I may not have known what I was doing all the time, but I loved them with everything I had.
Even when I was broken.
Even when I was unsure.
Even when I didn’t feel enough.
A Letter to My Older Kids
If you ever wonder…
If you ever question…
Yes, I was tired.
Yes, I was stressed.
Yes, I was overwhelmed.
But you were never unloved.
Not for one second.
If anything, you were the ones who taught me how to be the mom I am now.
You helped me grow into her.
And for that, I owe you everything.
Closing:
I still lie awake some nights wondering if I got it all wrong.
But then I remember that motherhood is a journey.
And love — real love — leaves room for imperfection.
So no, maybe I wasn’t perfect back then.
But I was yours.
And I loved you then, just like I love you now.
Maybe even more because now I can look back and see what a gift it all was.
Even the parts I didn’t get right.
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We’re all doing our best. And some days, that’s more than enough.
