Good Moms Have Scary Thoughts

I was suspicious of the 12 year old girl next door someday kidnapping my son then smothering him or leaving him outside when she realized what she’d done.

Intrusive thoughts that my baby would fall down flight of stairs or I would throw him. I kept telling myself I would never ever do something like that and got caught up on more sleep with help from family. Luckily the unwanted thoughts went away.

At 3 weeks old, the night before my husband was going back to work I was helping him get our 2 older kids showered before bed, our daughter wanted fed and comforted. She was crying and I couldn’t get to her just yet as I needed to get the kids out, dried off and dressed as they were still little as well. Between the increasing crying, my husband trying to talk to me and dealing with my other kids I became overwhelmed and had the most scary thought i have ever had about my kids. I thought that if my tiny baby fell down the stairs she would stop crying, I never thought about hurting herself but that scared me. I already had a history of postpartum depression so I knew what I needed to do. I sat there quietly trying to figure out things and then I told my husband. I had a prescription for prozac already just in case and started that, he canceled going back into work and worked from home a bit longer. I went to the doctor the next day and never had a thought like that again.

After my second baby was born, I pictured him being in a fluke accident, dying, and then feeling relieved. I feel like such a monster for having those thoughts.

Sometimes I hate being a mother. In those moments, I deeply wish that I wasn’t one. I think I’d be happier if I hadn’t had a child. I feel trapped and want to run away, but I don’t. I fear that I will just be unhappy until my child is grown, that I made the choice to have her out of societal obligation and fear of disappointing others. Then I see posts on social media about how much someone loves being a mom and how their love for their child is unlike anything they ever dreamed of and they are just so #Blessed, and I feel shame and guilt throughout my entire body and wonder desperately why I don’t feel that way

The pause at the top of the stairs, imagining my everything, my first born, tumbling down, with me frozen atop, paralyzed with fear.

I am so tired. I’m tired of being blamed for being grumpy. I DONT SLEEP I scream. I tell my husband- I got up 20 times last night. I say it’s unfair for me to be on 24 hours a day and not get ONE night of 8 hour rest. His response is “well I work and I work 10-12 hour days”. I’m so tired of that. I’m so tired of being made to feel like I don’t have a job just because I stay home. I am on the job 24 hours a day. I’m so tired of people telling me how blessed I am to stay home- it’s not a choice. I don’t have 2,000 a month to send my kids to daycare. I’m so tired of feeling like a bad mom. I’m so tired of feeling like I could be doing better. I’m so tired of feeling guilty when I CRAVE time away- but the longest I get is a trip to the grocery store. I’m tired of going out and getting called a million times asking me questions about the kids. I’m tired of cooking every night. I’m tired of feeling like a bad wife for not wanting sex. I’m tired of being touched out. I’m so tired of being everything to everyone and being nothing to myself. I’m tired of feeling tired when I wake up. I’m tired of coming last. I’m tired of the homework/ the cleaning/ the feeding/ the changing. I know one day I’ll miss this stage. And I try and do all the perfect mom stuff. I cut my kids lunches into shapes daily, yet don’t find time to eat lunch myself. I make breakfast do four people and won’t eat until dinner. I bathe/ cuddle/ sing to the nightly yet I fall asleep crying.

I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of being tired.

In the first week I would just look at my baby and feel hopeless, that I shouldn’t get too attached to her because she would die someday because I don’t deserve her. I would look at her little fingers and imagine them getting cut off. I would think about accidentally dropping her into the oven and closing the door. I would constantly watch her breath in and out, and wouldn’t trust anyone else to be alone with her. Now that she’s 6 months, my thoughts are different but equally scary. Every single story, fictional or otherwise about anyone dying or getting hurt immediately relates to my baby in someway. Why should they be hurt or die and my baby be healthy and alive? I now think that my baby will get a brain tumour because I knew a baby that did. I have visions of a killer waiting in my house to take my baby. I worry about my father who battles depression one day snapping and hurting her. I worry about my moms ex-boyfriends breaking into her house while she’s watching the baby and hurting the baby. I purposely don’t pump milk so that I can’t be away from her for too long, and I have an excuse to leave social situations. I’m terrified for my friends to babysit her because they have a pool. I drive all the time when my baby is in the car, even though my husband is a better driver. I’m worried my husband doesn’t pay enough attention, that when she starts crawling she will strangle herself on a cord. I worry that my mom is better at taking care of my baby than I am. Im worried I’m rotting my baby’s brain by letting her watch tv. I’m worried that if I tell anyone these thoughts they will take my baby away from me. Every moment of joy that I have with my sweet baby is like a cue for an intrusive thought to come in and piss all over that joy. I’m never without them.

My thoughts are so scary that I can’t even bear to post them.. constant images of harm coming to my baby, sometimes by me. I’d never do any of these things and the intrusions are crippling. I struggle with guilt and often think my baby deserves better.

Father in law: if we can’t touch him! How is he going to build his immunities!
Me: okay
What I’m really thinking: don’t tell me how yo raise my son! It’s my choice how to raise him! His immunities are my choice and my concern not yours! I hate you! If you touch him he will get sick and go to the hospital!

I fear that one day I’m going to snap and scream at my sweet innocent baby and completely traumatize her. I fear the same for my older daughter.