Mama Worry.
I was recently talking to one of my best friends who is also a mother. We were taking a walk with our children, a wonderful but almost too well known activity these days (the many many days we’ve had of COVID-19 pandemic). Despite our best efforts, the current state of the pandemic usually comes up at some point in the conversation as we both have so much worry in the ability to protect our children from the preventable (and even unpreventable) evils of the world. For whatever reason, our conversation this day got a little more real and we found ourselves at a mutual conclusion: No one tells you how much you will actually worry about your child. Or more accurately I suppose, no one that we spoke to during our pregnancies was able to truly describe the feelings with words alone. Of course we love our children and of course we want the best for them. Even typing that just seems obvious. (Although not the case for all mamas as everyone’s experience is different, and different is okay.)
That is just face value though. It is so much deeper than that – it’s an almost primal need to protect your child from danger. It is like the fear is palpable. For me this isn’t daily or constant by any means, but there are moments where the danger feels so imminent and the panic for your child is so intense. I assume there is some sort of hormonal element to this as well or maybe it’s an entirely learned response. Regardless, for me it is quite real.
One bright side to this though is that I believe that the fear is fueled by the extreme joy and love I feel for Poppy. I like to think it is a direct correlation. Again, this sounds obvious, but I don’t think it is. I had a coworker once who overheard me talking about a probably incidental moment of motherhood with Poppy that I enjoyed. This person responded by saying, “Do you really like your kid that much?”. I do not tell this story to impose judgement but it is something that I think about so frequently (here’s some anxious tendencies creeping in, I suppose). Yes. YES. I wanted to scream. But I did say, matter of factly, “Yes, I really like my kid that much.”
I really really love my child. I am enthralled by watching her smile and learn and grow. She amazes me daily. And I cannot image my world without her, even the exhaustion that comes with her at times. As angered as I was at the question, it did make me feel sympathy that this individual maybe didn’t feel the same way. And I felt sadness for all involved in the situation – this is why I say that maybe this intense motherly love isn’t so obvious.
This moment in my life was one of those weird turning points, which I realize as I look back on it. It put so much into perspective. My child is what I look forward to and being able to watch her grow, as terrifying as it is that something may happen to her, is what I look forward to most. Poppy is truly my best friend and I love experiencing things with her. This moment, among some others, pushed me to make a shift to be in an environment where my love for my child wasn’t brought into question – something that wasn’t shocking or negative. Somewhere where it is okay to love your child – to be a loving, caring mama and a “successful person.”
The COVID-19 pandemic has been very stressful and anxiety provoking for me. Having your first child a few weeks before a global pandemic is rough. We brought her home to perceived normalcy and within 2 weeks our whole area was on complete lockdown. I think after living like this for so long I sometimes forgot what that was like; as we have all adjusted to this state now, at least somewhat. At first we didn’t even leave our house. The pediatrician didn’t know what was safe – they told us they were unsure about us walking around our urban neighborhood. Thinking back, that is insane; How much fear and uncertainty was present by all. We still remain very cautious with COVID. As I said, the extreme love and the almost equal fear that comes with it are still in play. Working in healthcare I think shapes a person too. And not all in the same way. For me, I have seen so many unpreventable and unfortunate medical events happen to people, that working to control what is preventable is so important to me.
Always striving to do the right thing or the best thing to keep my child safe. Wanting to do all I can, not only for her, but for me too: In the event that something does happen I can convince myself that it wasn’t something I could control any further. It wouldn’t be my “fault”. But I’ve learned, or I’ve been working on learning, that here isn’t a “right” thing. Life isn’t black and white. And that’s okay. Doing the best we can for ourselves and our families is the right thing.
Ironically as I’m writing this article, my husband stopped me to show me a social media account where the a father photo shops his toddler into terribly dangerous situations and sends the photos to his wife, I can assume only to torture her. “It’s hysterical,” he says laughing. No, I am not a total grump, the photos are very funny and creative but it seems my husband doesn’t have the same baseline underlying panic of harm coming to our child. I don’t think he has the visions of falling down the steps with the baby or the baby falling from not being properly restrained or other similar situations that could occur. I have found that these thoughts occur in a lot of my mother friends however actually vocalizing them can be incredibly difficult. This also being said, the ability to recognize these thoughts in a category of their own and see them as just thoughts is a powerful thing.
It is surely a blanket statement I made that my husband doesn’t worry like I do. And it is unfair. Of course he does and I love him for how much he loves our daughter and cares for her. We have talked about the thought of something happening to us now that we are parents and how your perspective shifts. There is the logistical fear of who is going to care for my child and what that will look like if we were no longer present but there is a layer beyond that for us. We discovered one day our mutual feeling of this level of sadness at the thought of missing her life and missing the experiences of joy we get from being with her if. It’s a total lack of worry for yourself and ‘what happens to you’ but the potential emptiness of missing out on her is somber.
This turned into a deeper post than I originally intended but I think it is so relevant to the world we are living through. Postpartum anxiety, rage and depression rates have significantly increased during the recent months (really a not so recent 18 months )and it is important to reach out for help. Whether that is a family member, a partner, a mother friend, a non-mother friend, a doctor, a therapist (highly recommended), your dog (excellent listeners as well) or even a journal. Take the time for find the support you need. You and your family will thank you.
We are in this together mamas. I know your love for those babes is fierce and you are doing such an amazing job keeping them happy and safe. If you ever want to chat, I’m here to listen – and I’d be willing to bet lots of other mamas here are too.
Let’s talk soon,
Al
Photo Credit: Rachel Tokarski Photography