Ever feel like a bad Mom? I have...I do.
Let me catch you up a little. I've always had very mild versions of anxiety attacks. Not enough to affect my everyday life. If I ever felt anxious at all, all it would take was leaving the room for a couple of minutes and taking a few long, deep breaths.
After Easton was born, my anxiety got worse, a lot worse. And with it came ridiculous insomnia. Now it is to the point where it is affecting my everyday life, bad.
Because of our 2-month trip away from home, I ended up not getting my 6-week check up until also 3 months post-partum. Last week I discussed my insomnia and extreme anxiety with my doctor and he decided that it would be best to test my thyroid.
So they sucked my blood and off I went.
2 days (and 2 calls to the doctors office) later, I got my test results back...my thyroid was fine...good news, however this meant that I was having actually full-on anxiety attacks...bad news, and I would need to see a Psychologist to be treated...even worse news.
I was a Psych major in college. I know the questions they're going to ask. I know that they're going to make sure that I'm not a risk to myself or my child, which I'm not.
I KNOW that it's anxiety and that I need to be treated for it, and up until tonight I was still hesitant about going to see a Psychologist for help. Up until I started having an anxiety attack while giving Easton his last bottle of the night.
I felt it coming while I was giving Easton a bath, but I tried to shrug it off because there was absolutely no reason for me to be having one. I wasn't stressed or anxious about giving him a bath. I do it every single night. It's our special time together. It's our routine.
The anxious feeling gradually got worse and worse while I was putting his lotion and jammies on, and by the time I was giving him his bottle it was full force.
This is when I thought to myself, "Stevie, you HAVE to get this fixed because you can't continue to live like this."
For a split second, I resented my son. I resented him and I resented my husband.
They didn't do anything wrong...at all.
At this point, I began to sob quietly in the hopes that Chris wouldn't hear me.
Easton finished his bottle, so I rocked him to sleep and laid him down in his crib for the night.
Now I sit here asking myself over and over again in my head..."Am I a bad Mom?"