By: Sarah Thompson
Updated: Jan. 20, 2023
Originally Published: Jan. 20, 2023
Yesterday started off like any other day. I hit the snooze button one too many times and woke up late, as usual. The morning spiraled out of control, and before I knew it, I was caught up in the chaos. It wasn’t until I dropped my little one off at daycare that I finally had a moment to breathe.
As I walked back to my car, the familiar wave of anxiety hit me. Did I tell him I love him? What kind of mom forgets to say that? My logical side reassured me that he knows how much I care, but the worries crept in all the same.
I called my husband, feeling that familiar weight settle in my chest. “I think I forgot to tell our son I love him,” I admitted. He echoed my own thoughts back to me, “He knows you love him,” and somehow, that lifted a bit of the burden, at least for the moment.
I’m a mom who worries, and I can’t stand it. My thoughts range from the rational to the downright obsessive. Did I come off too stern? Did he eat enough for breakfast? Did he feel neglected while I was busy with chores? I often peer into his crib multiple times at night just to ensure he’s breathing evenly, wondering if I checked his hands and feet to make sure they aren’t stuck between the bars.
Throughout the day, I consider the “what-ifs”—the scenarios that could go wrong despite having no real basis for concern. What if he slips away from my hand and runs into the street? What if he tumbles off the playground equipment? And what if I didn’t say “I love you” today and that’s the last time I see him? I know these thoughts are irrational, yet they consume me.
Living with anxiety is like fighting a battle in my mind that never ends. The energy I should spend enjoying time with my child is instead wasted on battling these worries. It’s draining. My mind is a constant loop of what I should’ve done differently, what I need to do next time, and replaying moments that no one else remembers. I cling to mistakes my son will likely never recall, and it drives me to distraction.
It may sound odd to those who don’t struggle with worry, but at times, I even question my own sanity. I find myself worrying about worrying too much! I wish I could just go with the flow and not overanalyze everything. If only I could dial down the anxiety, if only for my son’s sake. I want him to be free of this burden that I carry.
I never want him to inherit my anxious tendencies. The day will come when he senses my worry and might think there’s something to fear. I refuse to let him grow up as a worrier. He deserves a mom who embodies strength, not anxiety. That’s the goal I’m working toward, even if I haven’t quite arrived yet. For now, I can only be the mom I am—a worrier mom. And while I may not love that title, I wholeheartedly adore being his mom. He knows this, even if I occasionally forget to tell him.
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In summary, being a mom who worries is a daily struggle, but it’s also a journey filled with love and growth. While I may not yet be the warrior mom I aspire to be, my love for my son drives me to become better every day.