Trigger Warning: Eating Disorders, Suicidal ideation

Call or Text 988 or start a conversation at 988lifeline.org if you ever experience Suicidal thoughts. 

Between my mental health, my eating disorders, my lifelong battle with the need for control, and my despise for life without routine, I constantly fear that I won’t be a good mom for our son. I’m learning that most babies function best with a routine (same, kiddo) but from what I’ve gathered so far, it sounds like for the first year of his life, OUR lives will be anything but routine. From feedings, to sleep schedules, and the countless other elements that will be, for the most part, out of our control, I can’t even imagine trying to solidify any sort of steady routine while navigating the first year of postpartum. I know people DO it every day, but the idea of getting into a routine and having to readjust daily if not by the hour sounds overwhelming as fuck. 

One of my biggest fears around having kids began when I went through recovery for Bulimia and Bing Eating Disorder. Once I learned the ins and outs of my own metal battles, I realized if I didn’t keep that shit in check, I’d risk passing it on to my children. I wouldn’t wish eating disorders on my worst enemy so the idea that they could potentially become my kid’s demon too, was enough to make me reconsider if I even wanted children. I’m happy to say my disorders are WAY more manageable than they were a couple years ago, let alone in 2017 when I went through rehab, but I’d be a damn liar if I said they still don’t rear their ugly heads DAILY. Pregnancy has put my recovery to the test and I’m proud to say I’ve avoided relapse. I also recognize I’ve done WAY more emotional eating than I know is good for me, I’ve spent WAY too much time criticizing my appearance, and seeing the number on the scale continue to rise at every doctor’s appointment hasn’t been helpful to staying in a mentally sound place. 

With my disorders came a battle with depression. I tend to sink FAST and hard when it comes on and I’ve noticed that it doesn’t take much to send me down that dark path. Today was one of those days. I had a doctor’s appointment and the nurse practitioner I saw (who was previously an absolute joy) shut me down when I had brought up my desire to encapsulate my placenta in an effort to avoid postpartum depression. She gave me some story of an extreme case and was very dismissive of my concerns. When I asked what other options for avoiding or helping with postpartum depression could be, she was dry as ever when she said “we’ll put you on medication.” “…You mean anti-depressants?” I dreadfully asked. She just nodded with no facial expression whatsoever. I’ve been on medication for mental health before. I DO NOT want to do it again. I felt so defeated walking out of there and called my Fiancé in tears – not because the nurse told me she highly suggests we don’t encapsulate – but because she was so quick to shoot me down when PPD is my NUMBER ONE fear right now. So, I sank and I sank fast. I immediately lost all motivation to do anything (I planned to get to the gym after not having worked out for over a week.) I told myself the endorphins would be good for me so I forced myself to drive to the gym. I walked in, started stretching and those all too familiar thoughts came flooding in. “What’s fucking point? I shouldn’t be a mom. If I fall back into depression and actually try to kill myself, my son will be motherless and my Fiancé will be a widower. I’m not cut out for this. I hate feeling like death sounds better than facing the possibility of hardship.” 

I’ve struggled with suicidal ideation (seeing death as an escape, but not actively suicidal) since I started battling my ED’s. Yet another part of me that I do NOT want to pass on to my children. Nor do I want them to see that part of me. If anything, I’d love for them to know I overcame it and I suppose there is a light in them seeing me go THROUGH it and beat it, but it’s just so dark. I want to avoid that at all costs. My Fiancé reminds me daily though that time spent worrying about what COULD happen only makes anxiety worse. While it’s nowhere near as easy as just “not worrying,” I know he’s right. It’s just so damn hard to turn it off sometimes. 

While I’m currently out of work, there’s been a nonstop struggle of feeling like I’m a bit worthless right now. As someone who has always placed way too much of my self-worth in my career, being 100% out of the game right now leaves me miserable whenever I see my non pregnant friends still training, auditioning, booking work, or working their gigs. I know – my worth DOESN’T come from my work, but living in a society that praises Capitalism and condemns dependency makes it extremely difficult to just exist without actively pursuing work. Naturally, my thoughts are leaning more towards the catastrophic type that feel far more permanent than reality actually is. The dooms day mental loop for me? 

• What if I can’t even work again because the demand of being a mom is something I’m just not even slightly prepared for?
• What if I become a stay-at-home mom out of necessity and hate it?
• What if my Fiancé grows resentment for me because of these things? (He would never, but my brain makes everyone I love out to be a jerk.) 
• What if all my dreams I’ve spent working towards just disintegrate in front of me because of my body changing, my life revolving around my child, and money troubles?
• I should be doing more to bring an income (I can feel my Fiancé rolling his eyes at this one because he’s constantly reminding me, I don’t need to do that.)

Standing up for myself is a more recent practice I’ve been able to implement into my life. I grew up a people pleaser and cowered at the first sign of any conflict in lieu of keeping peace. Even if it meant my own discomfort. It’s a cycle I DO NOT want my kids to see me continue. Now, I have not only myself to stand up for, by my son and our family, too. I went on a tour of our hospital two nights ago and the first part was a classroom setting questionnaire. When I asked for details about the process for circumcision, a family in front of me shot daggers at me so fast that my entire body went hot from the unexpected judgement. I’m learning to expect the same judgement when vaccinations come up as well as our views on breastfeeding vs formula, who will be allowed to meet him in our recovery room, at what point we’ll introduce him to family that aren’t our parents, how we’ll raise him, etc. Now, I have another defenseless little person to stick up for, too. I’m happy to say I will do everything I have to, no matter how uncomfortable, to keep my son safe, but man I wish that judgement didn’t feel so icky.

Overwhelm and overstimulation is something I worry about often. As an introvert who is extremely sound sensitive, just the idea of a screaming little one is enough to make me feel overwhelmed. When kids scream in public places, my entire body stiffens and I become unable to focus on anything. My anxiety sky rockets until the kid calms down. When I picture myself as the parent of the screaming child, I could pass out from the stress. I don’t want to avoid taking my kids anywhere out of fear for meltdowns, but DAMN it sounds like a good idea at times. It’s taken me years to be able to self-regulate in public and even then, sometimes I still have panic attacks, have debilitating anxiety, get super claustrophobic, and feel like I’ll pass out or throw up if I don’t get somewhere safe. The fear of having any of this happen with a toddler meltdown added to the mix makes my stomach flip. Yet another reason I fear that I won’t be a good mom. 

I’m scared. I’m scared that my own unchecked issues will make me unfit to be a mom. In reality, I think we all are doing our best with what we’re given and that’s all we can do. I’ve learned my best looks different every single day. I know that will only amplify once baby boy gets here. If he and I are both having a hard day, our best will look different than it will when we both feel at 100%. Same goes for our relationships. My fiancé and I are very different people when one or both of us feels exhausted, overstimulated, sad, hurt, etc. versus when we both have had great days at work, are well slept and have eaten. I’ll do my best to make sure I’m regulated, cared for, and have given myself grace from now on because that’s what my best looks like for me, my man, and my boy. One of my favorite pieces of advice so far has been to be the parent you needed as a kid. When they’re loud, don’t listen, or are otherwise less than pleasant to be around, it’s not that they’re giving you a hard time, but that they’re having a hard time. When we were kids and having a hard time, whatever we needed is what we should try and be for our kids. Same goes for us as adults. Sometimes, getting back to the basics in our toughest moments where WE are having a hard time is the way through it. Be gentle with yourself and be what YOU need for both of you.