Some days I feel like a bad mom, some days like a bad founder—and sometimes both
When I announced my pregnancy, someone told me, “Welcome to the next 21 years of your life where you’ll be judged for every decision you make.”
It sounded dramatic. It wasn’t.
And that judgement often leads to a hefty feeling of guilt.
When I had my first child, I couldn’t breastfeed the way I’d imagined. My son always seemed hungry, as if my body wasn’t enough. Once, in a moment of sleep-deprived panic, I sent my husband to the pharmacy at midnight for formula. When my son eventually preferred the bottle, I felt guilty for that too.
More than the exhaustion, what stayed with me was that inner voice — accusatory, relentless, never satisfied.
No one prepares you for how loud it gets.
The guilt doesn’t stop — it just finds new material
As my son grew, it felt like I found new sources of guilt at every turn. Breastfeed or don’t. Sleep train or don’t. Go back to work or don’t. Every choice feels like an exam you didn’t study for.
Feeding, especially, becomes a test in parenting perfection. Suddenly when your baby starts solids, you are supposed to produce perfectly balanced meals, introduce endless variety, and sit down for dinner at 5 p.m. (which, as a French person who grew up eating at 8, felt deeply unnatural).
Social media made it worse: Every day, I found myself scrolling through beautifully-portioned plates. Routines that never seem to go awry. And toddlers who apparently eat sardines and lentils with joy — with not a stained shirt or sticky hands in sight.
And this is all before you get to the captions, which contain “tips and tricks” that will make you question your every parenting move. “Start baby-led weaning,” you’re told, or your baby will only eat four foods by the time they turn one. “Cook everything from scratch,” they say, or you’re exposing them to toxins, and too much sugar.
The messaging may be well intentioned, but when you’re already exhausted, it can leave you feeling overwhelmed, and yes, guilty, at a time when most of us are just trying to survive.
The impossible balance of being a working mom
Ultimately, the guilt of mealtimes is what led me to start my company: Bébé Foodie, a platform and app designed to guide parents through introducing solid foods with expert-backed advice and real-life flexibility.
It was a mission I felt deeply driven by — but that also created a new layer of guilt. I love being present for my children, but I also love working, using my brain, and building something of my own. Somewhere along the way, it started to feel like I was supposed to choose: Be the mother who is fully available at all times or be the woman with ambition and a career.
When I got started, I was still working full time in corporate. At night, I studied to become a certified nutrition consultant and, on weekends, I built the website and assembled a team of pediatric experts. There were moments when, after a long day, I found myself more excited to open my laptop and work on the business than to sit on the floor and play with my son. And the second that thought crossed my mind, the guilt would rush in. That familiar pull was always there — mother on one side, founder on the other.
And then I was pregnant again. I told myself I would take one month of maternity leave. I took two because life with a newborn and a toddler had other plans. And during those weeks, when the business slowed down, I worried about that too. Was I falling behind? Was I letting the momentum slip?
And then came the moment that humbled me. When it was time to introduce solids to my daughter — just months before launching the first version of the app — I didn’t always have time to cook. So I relied heavily on baby store-bought purées. A slice of avocado here and there. A quickly steamed carrot if I managed. Yes, the founder of a baby feeding platform was barely doing all the things you are “supposed” to do when starting solids.
And there it was again: the guilt.
My business or my baby? The question felt constant. But then I remembered something important: I hadn’t created Bébé Foodie to promote perfection. I created it to remove pressure, to create guidance that adapts to real life. To say, “You can do this your way.”
You can cook from scratch and use a pouch. You can care deeply and still be tired. You can give your kids enough and carve out space for yourself, too. That philosophy had to apply to me too.
What I’m learning about ambition and motherhood
Today, the demands of motherhood haven’t slowed down, and neither has my work. As I write this, it’s Sunday. My son is drawing in the living room and my daughter is napping next to me while I type quietly beside her.
Some days feel stretched. Some days I question whether I am giving enough — to them or to my company. But here’s what I’ve come to accept: My children do not need me every minute of the day. They need me present in the moments that matter.
So I volunteer at school when I can. I stop working to build pirate ships out of cardboard. We make volcanoes with baking soda and food coloring. Then I go back to work. When I am with them, I try to truly be with them.
And food? My kids eat well. Some days we eat together and other days my kids eat dinner on the go and I’m lucky to grab a late-night bite in the glow of my laptop. But that’s ok, because connection doesn’t only happen around a perfectly-plated dinner.
For a long time, I thought ambition and motherhood were in competition. That loving my work somehow took something away from loving my children.
And while some of that guilt still lingers (honestly, does it ever completely go away?) now I believe something different. My children see me build something meaningful. They see me care about them fiercely. Both are true.
Some days I feel like a bad mom. Some days I feel like a bad founder. And sometimes both.
But most days, I am a woman learning how to hold ambition and tenderness in the same hands. And that feels like growth.
source https://www.mother.ly/career-money/mom-guilt-ambition-founder-motherhood/
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