Confessions of a Panicking Parent

Going from one child to two was such a scary concept. Don’t get me wrong, I was so excited to have another little baby nugget, but I was also terrified about how my threenager would react to becoming a big sister. When my husband and I told her she was going to have a little sister she seemed excited, but she was three so pretty shortly after she forgot all about it and demanded a snack.

Fairly soon I started to worry about what our new life would be like, would I have enough time to spend with Lily and with the new baby? Would the baby take all my attention away from her sister? Would she still feel loved enough if she had to share me. When the heck were my husband and I going to actually have time to talk? What if this? What if that? You know how it goes..

I tried to prepare myself, I read all the blogs, I did all the things they said to do. I tried to prepare her, we read all the books, we shopped for baby sister. Of course I knew everything was about to change, and as the due date got closer she could tell. She started acting out just a little bit; more and more often telling us no (typical 3 year old thing I know, but it wasn’t really like her once upon a time), she started having accidents again (even though she’d been potty trained for almost a year at that point).

I was exhausted in my third trimester and I was starting to get a glimpse of what life would be like with a toddler and a new baby and I was SCARED you guys. Like staying awake at night in a cold sweat panicking myself into a spiral of doom (and also you know, needing to pee every hour). My husband was working mega overtime to support our family and save up so I could take some extra time off, and knowing this wouldn’t change much any time soon made me realize how often I’d be solo with both girls.

UMMM hello Nervous Breakdown! [[By no means am I trying to compare myself to those parents who are actually SOLO all of the time. MAJOR MAJOR props to you all, you are seriously super heros.]] So there I was panicking myself into puddles of tears when I realized that none of that was getting me anywhere. If I wanted to feel better I needed to resolve to feel better about it, wallowing in worry and anxiety was absolutely not going to help me one bit. (I’ve dealt with my fair share of anxiety as an adult and had so far pretty much been successful at dealing).

So I put my big girl panties on and I tried to suck it up. When Lexi was born we were all so happy. It was like we were in this happy bubble, and then one day.. I’m not even sure when it happened, that bubble popped. My anxiety slowly started to creep back up on me. Everything was wonderful and happy and amazing but I couldn't stop feeling like something positively terrible could happen at any given moment. Scary scenarios swirled around the background of my mind like clockwork while I tried to go about my day. My boobs were freaking killing me from Lexi’s poor latch, Lily’s world was upside down with a new baby in the house and my poor husband was trying to support our family financially, support Lily and I emotionally and got a buttload of house chores dumped on his shoulders because let’s be real a nursing newborn takes up ALL of the time guys.

Eventually I noticed that my patience was growing shorter and shorter with Lily, more often my fuse would snap. More often Lexi crying would push me to the jaw clenching, tear holding back edge of my rope. Lily would do something that normal three year olds do like oh I dunno, knocking over a cup of water (because she’s three and kids are basically like tiny drunk humans) and I would lose my ever living mind you guys.

I’m talking like the mom no one imagines herself being yelling at her kid because she spilled some water, lost my mind. Over the dumbest things. And I knew that they were things I shouldn’t stress over but with all the crying and the three year olding and the lack of real sleeping for more than an hour at a time, I just couldn’t keep it together anymore. My husband saw me cracking and he took on the housework and he helped me with Lily and did the bath and bedtime routines so I could try to relax but as much as I appreciated and needed all of that help I still could not snap myself back into shape like I had always done.

All this led up to that day where I took my daughter to her pediatrician, and I tried to answer those postpartum survey questions the way I knew I should be if I were okay. I could not, if I was being honest with myself and those questions on the page. I knew something was wrong. So I answered them honestly, and when the doctor looked over my answers she knew too.

If it hadn’t been for her encouragement to go and talk to my OB I’m sure I’d just be chilling with my anxiety, outbursts, and panic attacks still, trying to manage the best way I knew how, reminding myself to be patient all while visions of my loved ones somehow being hurt surrounded my every thought. Thankfully that’s not the case, and now I am managing my anxiety with the help of my doctor and my momma tribe.

If you’re reading this and you need someone to talk to about whatever you’re dealing with please let me know. I can be here for you and encourage you in the best way I can. If not me, choose someone you trust because it can really help just to get things out of your own head. There are so many other moms out there dealing with postpartum issues, but since it doesn’t look pretty on our social media feeds we tend to keep it hidden. We lock it away and cry about it when everyone else is asleep, or when we’re in the shower, or when we're hiding somewhere with our secret stash of Oreos. Coming from someone who's been there, done that: Stop it, because there is another way.