The Weight of Mom Guilt: Showing Empathy in Challenging Times

This summer has been incredible for Perfectly Me Hero Camps. We've experienced amazing growth, and I truly feel like we've found our secret sauce for spreading our mission of helping kids be their best selves. At the heart of everything we do is one unwavering belief: all kids belong—whether neurotypical or neurodivergent, every child is welcome and valued in our community.

But living out this mission isn't always straightforward, and this summer taught me some profound lessons about what true belonging really means. And the role we can play in reducing parental guilt and shame around challenging behaviors.

When Good Intentions Meet Real Challenges

We welcomed a camper this summer who embodies everything beautiful about neurodivergence—he's kind, sweet, and genuinely wants to meet our expectations. And despite all his wonderful attributes, each week this summer brought new, unfamiliar campers into the community, and their acceptance weighed heavily on him, causing him a great deal of anxiety.

I threw everything I had at supporting him. We assigned a one-on-one aide, created special community-building opportunities, and even brought in an experienced team member who understands neurodivergent students deeply. Yet challenges persisted.

Finding True Understanding

One morning recently, during my prayer time for our camps and this precious camper, I found myself questioning everything. Was I really doing what was best for him, or was this about my own ego? My own need to prove that inclusion always works?

I remembered a man I once helped named Eduardo. Years ago, I encountered him on the street, bleeding. He didn't speak English, but I was determined to help him get to the hospital. So I picked him up and drove clear across town to the hospital. Only later, through a translator's notes, did I discover he lived just one block from me. He was simply trying to get home, however, my good intentions had taken him further from where he needed to be.

This memory made me think: In my eagerness to help my camper this summer, was I overengineering a solution without first understanding the true problem? So I asked him directly: "Do you like camp? Do you want to be here?"

His enthusiastic "yes" was reassuring, but more importantly, it led me to a deeper realization about what our mission really means.

The Weight of Mom Guilt

What struck me most wasn't just about this one camper—it was about his mom, and all the moms who entrust their children to us. I realized I never want any mother to feel shame because of how their child acts or reacts at our camp.

I've been there. I remember the crushing pressure around breastfeeding—"breast is best"—when I couldn't produce enough milk to feed my son, a generous mom shared her surplus with me. And then my son immediately rejected it. My husband's gentle wisdom echoed: "Millions of kids thrive on formula - breastmilk might be best, but her breastmilk wasn't designed for our son."

Even after switching to formula, I felt the judgment in casual conversations. "Are you breastfeeding?" felt loaded with expectation and comparison. I had anxiety in every mom group.

That shame followed me into other subsequent parenting decisions. My son's diet, for example, is an ongoing topic I struggle with. Like all parents, we want our kids to eat a balanced diet - but he doesn't exactly eat the vegetables and fruits he should. In our home, we focus on feeding the soul and building moral character, and I've accepted what feels like defeat in this area because he shows up as an amazing, kind, inclusive human being.

Yet when another mom commented that my son "seems lethargic to me" after I'd been vulnerable about my struggles, I didn't know how to respond.

Deep down, the shame of being judged stung, especially when I felt that I had been focusing more on character than carrots.

Our True Mission

This reflection helped me understand that one of our most important missions isn't just creating belonging for kids—it's ensuring parents, especially mothers, don't experience guilt or shame around their children's needs, behaviors, or differences. 

I can only imagine the additional challenges and potential shame that parents of neurodivergent children face daily. The questioning looks, the unsolicited advice, the assumption that different behavior means inadequate parenting.

Nobody needs that judgment. I don't need it, and I don't want it for anyone else.

Moving Forward with Intention

So we're staying true to our mission, even when it's hard. Even when inclusion feels messy or imperfect. Even when I question whether we're doing enough or doing it right.

Because creating true belonging isn't just about the kids who walk through our doors—it's about the families who trust us with their most precious gifts. It's about building a community where both children and parents can breathe easier knowing they're seen, supported, and valued exactly as they are.

Our secret sauce isn't perfection. It's persistence, compassion, and the unwavering belief that every child—and every family—deserves a place where they truly belong.

At Perfectly Me Hero Camps, you don't have to be perfect to belong. You just have to join us and be you.

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