I have doubted my quality as a mother at least daily for the past 16 years, 4 months, and 29 days. The baby years were hard with the diapers and breast feeding and pumping and up all hours of the night. Then came the toddler years. I broke into cold sweats perseverating over the grape I didn’t cut into fourths or the outlet I left uncovered because frankly, I was too tired to get up and find another one of those nail-breaking plastic things.

These doubts churn to the surface every September,...