Approximately six months after I weaned my first child, I experienced a panic episode—while aboard an airplane, cradling my son in my arms. I vividly recall looking at my partner, panic evident in my wide eyes, as my heart raced and beads of sweat dripped down my forehead, thoroughly saturating my shirt. My partner appeared unsure of how to assist, simply taking our child from me as I spiraled into fear. All I wanted was to find my breath; nothing else mattered in that moment. My hands trembled, and my stomach churned. The details of how I emerged from that episode are hazy, but I distinctly remember feeling ill, disoriented, and completely lost for the remainder of the day.
Following that intense panic attack, I continued to experience them—not frequently, but enough to feel as though I was gradually losing parts of myself. I became increasingly emotional, weighed down by an overwhelming sense of fragility, unsure of my identity as a person, let alone as a new mother.
Seeking help, I consulted a therapist who diagnosed me with adjustment disorder, potentially exacerbated by a hormonal imbalance from abruptly stopping breastfeeding. During several sessions filled with tears and discussion, we developed “The Plan,” which the therapist fully endorsed.
Essentially, The Plan involved taking a step back from the responsibilities of motherhood. It felt strange to articulate this need. My son was only 15 months old, and I was already craving a reprieve from my role as a mother. I fought against the guilt that accompanied those thoughts. The Plan entailed leaving my home in Colorado, where my partner was deeply engaged in launching his own business, for 15 weeks. I would relocate with my son to live with my parents in California. There, I would work full-time at a physical therapy clinic where I had previously been employed for four years, while my mother cared for my son during the day.
And so, I made that decision. I took those 15 weeks for myself, and gradually, I began to rediscover who I was. I found solace not only in the familiar work with old colleagues but also in the nurturing care provided by my mother. Each evening, I returned home to the comfort of a home-cooked meal, piles of freshly laundered clothes, and the joyful cuddles of my happy baby.
My panic attacks ceased as suddenly as they had begun. More importantly, I witnessed my mother interact with my child in a way that felt instinctual, a quality I had lost since that anxious moment on the plane. Each night, I eagerly anticipated hearing about their daily adventures: “He walked all the way to the beach today!” or “He played hide and seek in the mall and startled me!”
When the 15 weeks concluded, separating my son from my mother was emotionally challenging. She made it clear that he had become her baby in many ways, and I was fortunate to be allowed to take him back home.
To this day, a unique bond exists between my mother and son, forged through those long days filled with sandcastles, laughter, and sunlight, during which I was granted the time to grow into my role as his mother.
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Summary
This narrative highlights the journey of a mother grappling with panic attacks and the need for self-care. After recognizing her struggles, she took a significant step by temporarily relocating to her parents’ home, where she found the support she needed to reconnect with herself as both a woman and a mother. The experience not only alleviated her anxiety but also fostered a cherished bond between her mother and her child.