As I sit at the computer thinking of how to put into words to explain how my son has an anxious mother, my anxiety rises. I think of who will read this and what will they think of me. Will they skip to the end to see how it ends? Will they empathize me? Will they pity me? Or will they think I’m unfit to be a mother if I have so much anxiety? What will they think of me? I talk myself out of it and encourage myself to keep writing because it’s OK. Because hundreds if not thousands of mothers have anxiety.
I was ready to have my kid when I first got pregnant.
I was ready to have my kid after I felt it’s first kick.
I was ready to have my kid when I first found out I was having a boy.
I was ready to have my son after what felt like a long, hard, and painful pregnancy.
I was ready to have my son when he was due.
I was ready to have my son when he was ten days overdue.
And then everything changed.
I was ready to give up my son when he had his first non-stop cry fit at the hospital while I was still recovering from an emergency C-section and couldn’t calm him down.
My husband and I grew up very differently. We’re the equivalent of night and day, yet we work well together. There’s him, the logical realist who looks for solutions and ways to improve. Then there’s me, the anxious and high strung woman who seems to look for problems rather than solutions.
My husband is a fixer. Being the fixer he is, his nature tells him to step in and fix whatever problem there is. He racks his brain for solutions and Googles how to’s. He checks out online groups to see what other people are saying. He’s always looking for the best way to help. He’s a go-getter! It’s admirable and appreciated.