When I became a mom, I asked a lot of questions. Questions to my husband, mother, mom friends, pediatrician, nurses, etc. They all started with the same four words: “Is it okay if…”
I’d like to think I have somewhat of a mother’s intuition, but my confidence is lacking. I thought it would get easier, especially after we passed the one year mark. Yet, here I am constantly doubting myself. While the incessant questions to my friends, family, and medical professionals have tapered off, I feel like I wear a weighted vest of insecurity.
As I lie underneath 22 pounds of toddler who refuses to nap in his crib, I think to myself, “I’m doing this wrong.”
As I hand him a fruit and veggie pouch for his morning snack because I know he’ll eat it, I think to myself, “I’m doing this wrong.”
As I turn on cartoons mid-morning so I can semi-peacefully eat breakfast and drink a cup of coffee, I think to myself, “I’m doing this wrong.”
I’m doing my best to raise a healthy human and maintain my sanity in the process. However, the second-guessing, scrutiny, and observing each of my decisions under a microscope has increased as my child has grown.
I’m a stay at home mom and spend the majority of my waking hours with my son. Once he goes to bed at night, I do feel the relief of the few hours of freedom, but I ask myself:
“Did I talk to him enough today?”
“Did I snuggle with him enough?”
“Does he know he’s loved?”
The rational voice in my head tells me I’m doing just fine, but the voice of self-doubt is very opinionated.
Some might say it’s the“first child” syndrome and if I ever popped a second baby out I’d ease up a bit. I’m afraid of the opposite effect. I see a woman crippled with even more anxiety. Frightened by the potential damage she’s doing to her babies.
I’ve heard that if you worry about whether or not you’re a good mom then you’re a good mom. So as I go to bed each evening I try to take some relief in that point of view.