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. Related My 8-year-old called me out—and it changed how I work forever 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 jo…