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Working Mom Guilt: When Being There Comes with a Price Tag

When I was a kid, my mom was involved. She joined the PTA, chaperoned field trips, and showed up for school events—at least until I was in 5th grade. My stepdad was the primary breadwinner, so she had the option to be there. I can still picture her in the PTA office, and now I think that’s what I want for my daughter.


Back then, the cost of living—and childcare—was different. One income covered the basics. Today, those same basics cost far more, and childcare alone can feel like a second rent.


Now, I work, I hustle, and I try to be present. Still, the quiet guilt creeps in.


What if she learns a new word and I’m not there?
What if a school event at 10 a.m. conflicts with a meeting I can’t move?

I have a while before those moments come, but the thoughts linger.


Some moms watch their child’s first steps through a video instead of being there to catch them. Many wish they could stay home, until reality reminds them—rent, groceries, student loans, car repairs—everything costs more than when our mothers were chaperoning trips.

The emotional cost: guilt, choice, identity


Money matters because it fuels a deeper weight—guilt. Working moms juggle who will watch the baby, if the sitter is reliable, if the center’s curriculum is good enough, and whether their paycheck will be eaten by childcare.


These calculations influence whether we work full-time, part-time, or side-hustle. They also shape the examples we set for our kids.


The national average for full-time childcare in 2024 was about $13,128 per year. For families with more than one child, that’s per child. In some places, infant care is a few hundred a month; in big cities, it’s well over $1,000.


Near me, a local daycare charges weekly, whether your child attends every day or not, with rates that change by age.


I want to be home more—that’s always been the preference, especially when the cost of child care continues to increase. 


I want my daughter to have more than I had—a life without shoes that are too small or laundry done in a sink because the laundromat was a luxury.


There were moments in my childhood that I had to wear the same shoes that no longer fit because my parents could not afford for me to have shoes that fit or give me options. 


Those goals are real, but they don’t erase the guilt.

Small trade-offs, big impact


Some families make it work by cutting vacations, moving farther from work, switching to cheaper daycares, or relying on relatives. Others change careers, take pay cuts for remote work, or juggle multiple jobs. None of it is easy—it’s all trade-offs.


For me, it was co-feeding so she’d be okay when I went back to work, choosing the schedule that fit our family, and budgeting tightly. For others, paid family leave or subsidized childcare could make all the difference—but those aren’t universally available.

What I want for my daughter—and for other working moms


I want to be there for the big moments and as many of the small ones as I can. I want a system where parents can work without sacrificing their children’s early years—affordable childcare, paid parental leave for all, and workplaces that respect family schedules.


No mom should feel trapped in an impossible juggle where childcare swallows her paycheck and guilt swallows her heart.

Reality + hope


Here’s the truth I try to hold onto: we’re doing the best we can. That doesn’t make late nights or missed events easier, but it does mean we can be kinder to ourselves. Our choices are made out of love, survival, and hope for a better future for our children.


We may not be able to be everywhere at once, but we are exactly where our children need us to be—in their corner.

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