It’s 4 p.m., and I’m running on fumes. Last night was a sleepless one, spent tending to my feverish, coughing 3-year-old, and now I’m juggling a few pots on the stove, desperately trying not to overcook the broccoli again—because we all know how picky my older son can be. Meanwhile, my youngest is taking what feels like an eternity in the bathroom, and soon I’ll be knee-deep in wipes while attempting not to let dinner burn.
As I stir the pot, my phone buzzes with work emails, and my mom is texting me about weekend plans. Just then, my older son approaches, excitedly chatting about the latest video game that has captivated his attention. Suddenly, my little one starts coughing again, and my mind races. Is it just a cold, or is it something more serious? Should I call the doctor?
My heart skips a beat, and the familiar grip of anxiety tightens around me. For those of us with anxiety, moments like these can send us spiraling. Everyone deals with stress, but for anxious folks, the pressure can feel overwhelming. We have an invisible weight we carry, and when our plates get too full—like mine was today—it can become too much.
As parents, we often have to push through these tough moments, but let’s face it: parenting is inherently stressful. Caring for our children is a nonstop job, filled with unexpected challenges and, at times, sheer panic.
Typically, I manage to keep my anxiety in check around my kids, but I can’t deny I’ve had my share of anxious moments while parenting. I strive to shield them from my struggles, occasionally telling them, “Mommy needs a moment,” when it all feels too heavy. Yet, even on calmer days, my mind can be elsewhere, fixated on worries or plans that seem urgent.
I can’t help but wonder how my anxiety affects my kids. When I’m in the kitchen, overwhelmed and distracted, does my older son sense that I’m not fully present? Does he feel like “Mommy is too busy” or that I’m lost in my own anxieties?
Sometimes I catch glimpses of anxiety in my kids, but I can’t tell if it’s just normal childhood worries or if they’ve inherited my anxious tendencies. I find myself obsessively worrying about how to protect them from becoming anxious adults. I often apologize to them for my anxious demeanor, even voicing it aloud: “Sorry, I can’t focus on your video game talk right now; my brain feels like it has 17 tabs open.”
When he nods, seemingly amused by my analogy, I can’t help but wonder if he truly understands. Will he remember me as a mom who was often too lost in her thoughts to be present, or will he recognize my efforts to care deeply for him?
Anxiety can make us overly critical of ourselves. We want our children to feel secure and at ease, yet we often feel like we’re falling short. I’m trying my best to take care of myself—going to therapy, exercising, and practicing self-care to keep my anxiety in check.
When my anxiety spills over into my parenting, I can’t help but feel guilty. I grieve the moments I wish could be different. I’m learning to accept my anxious self, recognizing that my care and concern for my kids is a sign of love. I just hope they can see it too—and if they don’t, I hope they’ll forgive me for my shortcomings.
If you’re interested in learning more about self-care during this journey, check out this article on pregnancy for some helpful tips. And for those exploring their own paths to parenthood, this post on home insemination could be enlightening. You can also find valuable insights on couples’ fertility journeys that might resonate with your experience.
Summary
In this heartfelt apology, an anxious mom reflects on her challenges balancing parenting and anxiety. She expresses concern about how her struggles might affect her children and hopes they can recognize her love amid her distractions. Through self-care and acceptance, she strives to be the best mother possible while navigating her anxiety.