Wracked with Guilt: Why We Should Share Our Mommy Mistakes

It was July 2.

Oliver was just shy of 6 months old and I was still getting the hang of being out in the world with him. This particular afternoon involved grocery shopping at Target. We had made it through the actual shopping experience trauma-free, were back at the car, and I had way too many things to juggle. You know what I mean: I’ve got my purse, keys floating around in there somewhere. The exploding 25-lb diaper bag, packed with at least a full week’s worth of supplies. The cart. The groceries. The infant seat, baby included.

What goes in the car first? Groceries? I hate to turn my back while he’s in the cart. So, infant seat it is. Now I’ve got to be quick, before he gets impatient. And I can’t unload the cart with my purse and keys in hand. So, I toss those from the back seat up into the driver’s seat. Groceries in. Cart quickly wheeled into the corral. Rear door closed.

And BAM. Just like that, Oliver was locked in the car. Keys in the front seat.

According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, when the outside temperature is 83° F, even with the windows rolled down 2 inches, the temperature inside a car can reach 109°F in only 15 minutes. Unfortunately, while Oliver and I had shopped together in the cool air-conditioning of Target, our car had been sitting in the mid-afternoon sun for over an hour, no windows cracked.  So when that rear door closed, he was locked in a car that already had a dangerously high temperature, and it was rising quickly.

Panic.

I’d recently convinced my husband to let me get an iPhone. (He’s Droid all the way.) So, Siri and I had been developing a pretty dependent relationship. I spent a frantic few moments considering all things from going in to Target seeking help, to sizing up the nearby line of red carts, wondering if I was strong enough to throw one through the windshield. However, I came to the conclusion that this might be a police-worthy situation. So in my panic, I held down the home button and told Siri, “Call the police.” Her response? To pull up a list of songs by the rock band, The Police. NOT HELPFUL. So, I made my first call to 9-1-1 as a mother.

My husband, who will never let me live down the Siri thing, arrived shortly after the second police car, right as the door was being unlocked. The first officer wasn’t equipped to unlock my door and didn’t feel breaking a window was needed – yet. Let me tell you, I was already willing and ready. I spent most of my gut-wrenching waiting time answering the officers’ questions (which inadvertently made me feel like the world’s worst mother) and attempting to play peek-a-boo with Oliver. My mom now says it must have been a terrifying game for him… I kept half-screaming “peek-a-boo” while pressing my tear-streaked, frantic-eyed face up against the window.

In the end, Oliver was fine. (So were our windows.) He was soaked through like he’d been swimming fully-clothed, but we were assured that sweat is a good thing and were given the all clear once the officers verified he was able to nurse to re-hydrate.

Then the guilt hit. After I had mostly recovered emotionally, I decided to do two things: I bought a coil wristband to attach to my keychain. Those keys NEVER get tossed in the seat anymore. I wear them around the crook of my elbow as I load the car. And, I shared my story on Facebook.

So, why in the world would I share this guilt-laden story?

Coil Wristbands, available for purchase on Amazon.com.
Coil Wristbands, available for purchase on Amazon.com.

Prevention is a huge part of safety. One reason I shared my story was to spread the word about how easily this can happen. I have been contacted by several moms since who went out and bought a coil wristband after reading my story. If even one of those moms has been spared the stress of what I went through that afternoon, and their child spared the danger, this is a story worth sharing.

Social Media is a pervasive part of most of our days. And let’s face it; we’re not usually getting on to update the world about our most recent failure, mistake or oversight. We blog about the amazing birthday parties we throw. We post about the incredible activities we do, the places we take our children. We tweet about how proud we are of each milestone. The majority of our social media inundations are Mother-of-the-Year worthy, and it makes our mistakes seem even more glaring.

It’s time we start sharing our guilty moments, too. If anything, to help other moms see the normalcy in these inevitable mishaps.

To remind ourselves that we are not alone in our mistakes.

Let’s help each other avoid these moments by sharing our imperfections and the knowledge we gain from them.

Amber Dawkins
Amber loves jellybeans, morning snuggles, and new adventures. Personality tests peg her as 93% extroverted. She loves to write, but most of the time, you’ll find her behind her camera lens. Amber left her teaching position in 2016 to turn her passion into a full time photography career. She now spends time photographing homes for real estate agents, updating headshots, freelancing for local magazines, and creating branding imagery for businesses by capturing their spaces, products, people, and processes. She also does portrait sessions for families, children, and high school seniors. Amber recently got married in a small pandemic friendly wedding. As mama to one and stepmama to four, she thrives on the happy chaos of a large, blended family. Amber lives with both Cystic Fibrosis and CF Related Diabetes and thanks God daily for His blessings and the medical advances that continue to keep her as healthy as possible.