When we talk about the transformation of becoming a mother, we acknowledge that it's a tiredness like no other, but mostly we hear how it is a beautiful, indescribable, wonderful transformation that you couldn't even imagine. And while that may be true, that wasn't my experience.
The truth is, becoming a mother was very difficult on my mental health. Motherhood made me feel very helpless, and after awhile that made me feel hopeless. I felt helpless when it came to nourishing my baby, getting him to sleep, controlling my emotions. And as he started to grow, so did my negative feelings. I felt helpless when he would get in trouble at school, when he wouldn't listen at home, when he randomly decided he no longer wanted to eat fruits or veggies, ever again.
See, I had built my coping mechanism for anxiety on control. So when my son became a very headstrong toddler, and wouldn't listen to mommy (like toddlers often do), it severely triggered my anxiety. And when my anxiety would get triggered, it manifested as anger, rage, and violence. I knew becoming a mom was making my anxiety worse. And then one day, I got my wake up call....
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The baby started spitting up, then slung his head in the other direction, also slinging spit up all over his shirt. Then he spit up again, the slung his head back the other way again, adding more spit up to the mess. As it dripped down my leg and I said, "Oh great," I heard a giggle behind me. No, not a giggle. A taunting laugh. A "Haha, that's what you get." My blood started to boil. I got up to change the baby, and myself, and as I walked past my still smirking 8-year-old, I raised my leg to tap his hip and get his attention, signaling that what he was doing was not appreciated. I was going to give him the stank eye.
Instead, I missed his hip and kicked him right in the gut. Immediately he grabbed his belly and said ow, and I knew I'd messed up. I apologized but was still really angry. I told him the laughing was disrespectful and not appreciated. He told me he was laughing at the creature he was fighting in Prodigy, his math game, not me. I felt sick. How could I have jumped to the wrong conclusion so quickly? How could I think the worst of this sweet (and yes, mischievous) boy. My anxiety was still peaked though, and honestly I didn't know if I believed him. I didn't want to believe, because that would mean that I was wrong, and that I'd REALLY messed up.
As I took the baby to the room to change him, I started to spiral...
*Trigger warning: breastfeeding problems & sexual trauma
I was recently asked what to do when you are touched out. This sweet mama was sitting deep in shame, so over being touched by and breastfeeding her baby, not to mention how it was affecting intimacy with her husband. She said, "I feel like I want to jump out of my body any time my husband kisses me or tried to love on me. I HATE THIS!"
I've got to tell you, I could so relate to this mama! After having my first son, this is exactly how I felt. I used to cry when he would nurse because it was emotionally so incredibly painful for me. I couldn't figure out why. I was lucky to have a friend tell me that I was ok and I wasn't the only one who ever felt that, and taught me how to cope until I started to feel better. I'll share her tips too, and I also want to touch on another level of what may be going on that I didn't know about until much later.
In my experience this is most often a trauma response. And not necessarily the type of trauma you think (though that's also possible). Here's the thing though...
My heart was racing, face was flushed, the feelings of shame washed over me again. I raced from my desk to the bathroom, glad that it was just around the corner and that I didn't run into anyone on my way. My eyes were filled with tears as I collapsed on the bathroom floor, trying to stifle my cries so no one could hear me.
This used to be a daily occurrence for me. I thought life would always be like that too. And that made living almost unbearable at times. Especially in the midst of my panic attacks. It made no sense, considering I had a beautiful son, loving husband, and a pretty good job. But then, anxiety rarely makes sense.
One day...
When I met Megan, I had no idea how integral she would be to healing my body image, brain fog, and anxiety. Body image was something I'd dealt with since I was 14. The first time I felt shame about my body size, I was in gym class. We had to weigh ourselves for the class, and share our weight with the class. I was one of the three shortest girls in my class. Two of them had tiny body frames and were dancers. I was by no means overweight at the time, but I also wasn't as small as them. I came in at just over 105 lbs, while they were both in the low 90's. I could hear their giggles despite them trying to stifle their laughter. To make matters worse, they were both popular while I was awkward and insecure.
I carried that insecurity for years. You'd think that after carrying a baby, I'd recognize how amazing my body was to grow a human from next to nothing, and nourish that human for an extra 3.5 years after birth. But despite knowing in my brain how strong that made me, my heart wasn't ready to listen. Then Megan started to speak life over me, and things started to change.
