When we first brought our little one home, I was consumed by the fear that he might stop breathing. I would sacrifice sleep, trying to maintain some semblance of sanity—an oxymoron that still baffles me. I found myself fixated on his chest, counting the rise and fall to stave off the panic that he could be taken from me at any moment, without warning or reason. That fear clawed its way to the front of my mind, dismissing logic and statistics as mere distractions.
Ah, those were the days.
Now, my worries have multiplied and grown more complex. I no longer dread that he won’t survive the night; instead, I grapple with much larger concerns. My anxiety has reached new heights, and the weight of my fears sometimes feels like it could choke me right where I stand.
To put it simply, I spend a significant amount of my time in a state of fear.
I’m terrified that I’m not enough for him—that I won’t be the mother he needs when he needs me most. I worry that I might lack the will, strength, or resolve to provide the solid foundation he needs to become independent one day.
I’m scared of making mistakes. One poorly chosen word or a small misstep could land him in therapy, recounting the less-than-stellar moments of his childhood that I inadvertently created.
What if I’m not strong enough when he needs me? Or worse, what if I’m too strong, leaving him unprepared to rely on his own strength when the time comes?
I’m afraid that my exhaustion will lead to cutting essential corners. I worry I won’t adequately explain life’s complexities. How do I help him understand that love isn’t always enough, or why good people sometimes leave us too soon? How can I explain hatred that hides behind the guise of religion or a love that destroys instead of uplifts?
I’m also anxious that I won’t be there when he needs me the most. The world can be terrifying, and with violence creeping into places like schools and shopping malls, what if something happens to him and I’m not around?
If I lean too much toward protection, will I deprive him of the tools he needs to thrive? Conversely, if I’m too hands-off, will he make a mistake that leads to consequences too severe for recovery?
I’m torn between working and being present. If I work, am I neglecting him? If I don’t work, am I failing to set him up for future success?
I fear that my biases could shape his worldview. Am I approaching everything with an open mind? Can I set aside what I’ve learned so he can form his own opinions?
I worry if I don’t teach him my lessons, he might repeat my mistakes. Yet, I’m also scared that by trying to shield him from missteps, I could rob him of the essential experiences needed to grow.
I fear him experiencing pain, but can I teach him resilience? Can I instill hope that things get better?
My past haunts me in relation to his future. What will I say when he only wants to hear my voice? Will I drown out his when he needs to be heard?
I worry I might love him so much that it becomes more detrimental than supportive. What if he sees my flaws and finds me weak? Or what if he never sees the real me, never knowing it’s okay to be scared and human?
I’m afraid he’ll take on my fears as his own.
When the weight of these worries feels overwhelming and terror grips me, I remind myself of those early days when my biggest concern was whether he’d survive the night. I look into his curious eyes and toothless grin and remember: If I survived those sleepless nights filled with fear, surely I can handle the unknowns that lie ahead for him. Right?
For further insights on navigating fears while parenting, check out our other blog post at Intracervical Insemination. And if you’re looking to boost fertility, Make a Mom has great resources on that topic. For a comprehensive look into infertility, visit WomensHealth.gov.
Summary:
This article discusses the overwhelming fears and anxieties that come with motherhood, from worries about being a good parent to concerns about the child’s future in a frightening world. The author reflects on the evolution of these fears and finds solace in the memory of simpler times, emphasizing the importance of resilience and hope.