As I reflect on my own childhood, I remember how my mother battled depression following her divorce. I often felt responsible for her pain, believing there was something I could have done to alleviate her struggles. I don’t want my son to experience that same burden. As his third birthday approaches, I’ve decided to write him a letter that he can read when he’s older.
Dear Sweetheart,
One day, you’ll grow up and start to notice my reactions to things that happen around you. You might wonder why I seem upset when someone says something unkind to you, or why I hesitate to let you ride your bike to a friend’s house. You may question my constant inquiries about your day or your feelings. It might seem peculiar when I clean the house obsessively or when I express frustration towards your dad for something trivial, like forgetting to pick up groceries. You might even ask why I tear up while watching you open gifts on your birthday.
There will be moments when I intervene with a teacher or another parent, perhaps when you didn’t even register what they did wrong. You may find it strange that I prefer to wake up early on weekends to enjoy some quiet time alone, or that I sometimes mix up your name with the dogs’ names, as if my mind is racing through a list of choices before settling on yours.
You’ll also observe my worries about finances—not just for your future education or wedding, but for unexpected situations that could arise. The anxiety of not being prepared can be overwhelming for me. As you grow up, you may notice my mood changes and realize that the days when I don’t take my medication seem to coincide with my worst moments.
If you ever wake up to find me quietly watching over you, don’t be alarmed. In those moments, I cherish the feeling of being your protector, knowing you are safe and sound.
I often think about the terrifying things that happen in the world—stories of children getting lost or harmed. The mere thought of having to identify my child in a worst-case scenario brings me to tears. I know these fears are not typical, but they linger in my mind. Even when I struggle to trust others, I must learn to trust in God.
Every night, I express gratitude for having you in my life, praying for the strength to be the best version of myself for you. My love for you is immense, but I also know that I face challenges that can affect my behavior. My bipolar depression can sometimes lead me to react sharply or become overly stressed about keeping our home tidy, which might cause me to miss important moments when you need me.
If you ever feel that my moods are a reflection of something you’ve done, please know that’s not the case. Nothing you do could diminish my love for you. The bond between a mother and child is profound, and sometimes, that connection can lead to overreactions. I recognize that I may struggle more than others, and when my actions cause you confusion or sadness, remember: it’s not you; it’s me.
You are perfect just as you are. I’m the one who may grapple with feelings of paranoia, anxiety, and various emotional hurdles. My hope is to practice self-control daily, striving to be the loving mother you deserve.
I apologize in advance for the days when I falter. Please remember, it’s not your fault; it’s mine.
If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, check out this resource. For additional information, you might find this site helpful. And for useful insights on pregnancy week by week, visit this excellent resource.
Summary
In this heartfelt letter, a mother expresses her struggles with depression and the impact it has on her parenting. She reassures her son that her emotional challenges are not a reflection of his worth but rather her own internal battles. Through vulnerability and honesty, she aims to foster understanding and connection as he grows.