Coming from a big family, I’ve been surrounded by babies for as long as I can remember. I cared for siblings and later babysat for families in my small town. My love for children and people grew as I continued my service to others as I became a caregiver. I had such patience and a calm about me. I always wanted children. (I played with dolls religiously, and house, too). I wanted my own brood. I was keenly aware of children around me and the interactions these children shared with their mothers. I wanted to be that mom that just went with the flow and was relaxed and confident. It’s how I imagined I would be some day. I believe I would’ve been that mom, too.
I was destined to be the mom that cared but didn’t hover. That smiled from a distance while my children embarked on new challenges and experiences. Who would yell across the playground when a step was missed climbing the equipment, “You’re brave. Brush it off”. I know... I just know that’s who I was supposed to be. That’s not who I am. With losing two babies I was robbed of who I was becoming. My mind took a sharp left and now I am struck daily with the fear that it’ll happen again. That once laissez faire approach I would’ve taken has now changed due to this hyper awareness of every possible negative “what if”. The consequence is no longer a scraped knee. It’s now much worse, because I’ve lived through much worse. I’m a catastrophist. A worse case scenario over-thinker. My confidence is gone and my ease is no where to be found. I spent my beginning weeks and months with my rainbow vigorously working myself up to lay her down and walk out of the room only to get downstairs and be doing laundry and think- “What if she’s stopped breathing? I should go check on her. But what if she’s fine? I am worrying about a non-problem. Maybe I should go to the bathroom before I check in case she’s dead? If she’s dead I’m not going to have time to use the bathroom for awhile. But, I shouldn’t waste time finishing the laundry or going to the bathroom because what if she’s already gone? Or what if I went right now and I saved her? I’m wasting time *panic intensifies*” (It’s bizarre. It’s odd to see it even written out. But, these are daily thoughts.) I race upstairs and hold my breath as I see her still in her bassinet. She takes a big dreamy sigh- and I feel as if I could collapse in relief right where I stand. I’ve had to train myself to not let these unprovoked thoughts dictate my actions and my parenting, but some days it’s a losing battle. I wasn’t meant to be this mother. Afraid to leave the room. Afraid to put her down or leave her from my sight. The mom who has to work herself up to hand her to family who wants to snuggle and love her. I’m not who I planned to be but I am the mother I am. I may always seem to helicopter over my baby. I will aways choose to hold her rather than lay her alone to sleep. I’ll try hard to let my children learn even if it means they have a few tumbles. I can’t promise I won’t be tense and holding my breath and calming myself in even the most simplest of moments. I’m going to have to work on my own fears and anxieties as they are my own and I will try and not project them outwards- I will try every day. I will always “play it safe” because there’s enough I can’t control that I will never add risk. I will be fierce with my love and will try so hard to smile and be brave for my children even when I’m crumbling inside. I’m not the mother I was meant to be- I am the mother loss has molded me to be. I pray the mother I am is the mother my children need. My path may have been changed due to my experiences but I will work hard to not let it rule the kind of mother I know I still want to be. |
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