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I’m a Worrywart Mom Who Aims to Be a Warrior
Parenting can be a wild ride, and yesterday was no exception. I woke up later than intended, and from there, the day spiraled out of control as it often does. It wasn’t until I dropped my son off at daycare that I finally had a moment to catch my breath. As I walked down the path to the parking lot, that’s when my mind really started to race.
Did I tell him I loved him? Oh no, I think I forgot! He gave me kisses, but did I actually say “I love you”? What kind of mother am I?
Deep down, I know my son is aware of my love for him. The rational side of my brain keeps reminding me of this, yet the anxious thoughts persist. I shouldn’t let my insecurities take over, but somehow, I can’t shake them off.
Once I got to the car, I called my husband, feeling a weight on my shoulders. I confessed my fears about not telling our little one that I loved him. He reassured me, “He knows you love him,” and for a moment, I felt lighter. But then, the worry would creep back in again.
I’m that mom who worries endlessly, and honestly, it frustrates me. My thoughts range from the reasonable to the downright obsessive. I fret over every little thing, from how I spoke to him to whether he ate enough during the day. I worry that I focused too much on chores and not enough on him. Did I put him in time-out when he just needed a hug?
There are nights I find myself peeking into his crib, checking if he’s breathing evenly, or if his limbs are stuck between the bars. I can’t help but think about all the what-ifs of the day—what if he runs away from me and into traffic? What if he falls off the slide? What if I forgot to tell him I love him, and that’s the last moment I have with him? I know these thoughts are irrational, yet I can’t stop the spiral.
Living with this anxiety feels like a constant battle in my mind, one that drains my energy. Instead of enjoying precious moments with my son, I find myself preoccupied with what I should have done or what I need to do better next time. I replay conversations and events, worrying about every little detail that likely no one else remembers. I hold onto my mistakes long after he has forgotten them.
I know it sounds a bit crazy to those who don’t share these worries. Sometimes, I even wonder if I’m losing my mind over it all. It sounds ridiculous, right? I worry about my own worrying! I just wish I could let the day unfold without overthinking every moment. I want to find a way to dial my thoughts down to a manageable level—for my son’s sake.
I don’t want him to inherit my anxious tendencies. One day, he’ll notice my worry and might think there’s something to be anxious about too. I refuse to let that happen. He deserves a warrior mom, not a worrywart. That’s my goal, even though I haven’t quite reached it yet. For now, he has to put up with me, the mom who worries. And even though I cringe at the “worrier” label, I cherish being his mom, and he knows that.
Even if I sometimes forget to tell him, he knows I love him.
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Summary
The author shares her struggles as an anxious mom, filled with worries about her parenting. Despite knowing her son loves her, she battles irrational fears and overthinks daily interactions. While aiming to be a stronger, more confident mother, she embraces her role and the love she shares with her child, hoping not to pass down her anxieties.