We all have something in our lives that will cause stress, tension, anxiety…
What happens when your biggest trigger are the people you love the most, your child(ren)? What happens when looking at them makes you want to vomit? What happens when even hearing them suffer from a cold makes you want to physically rip your hair out? What happens when hearing them whimper (not whine) makes you want to run from the house screaming?
This sounds horrible and cruel and yet this has happened to me twice in my lifetime. It is painful to admit as I feel I’ll be judged and someone will call DCF on me. No mother ever wants to think her child will drive her literally to insanity, but it happens. It happens more then people will admit.
The first time this occurred was almost 9 years ago after the birth of my daughter. As I’ve mentioned in another post, I was on cloud nine when she was born. I treasured her. I watched her sleep. I gave her so many kisses and cuddles and then one day it started to change. Her sweet innocent newborn face became ugly to me. Her little cute coos became like a crows caw in sound. Her low cries for me to feed her or change her or even hold her became like a banshee screaming. All this happened in almost a blink of an eye.
I couldn’t stand to be around her. I blamed her for what was happening to me. I began to hate her. I began to plan my escape, my freedom.
Am I an awful mother yet?
I felt that I was a horrible human being, let alone a bad mother for a few months. How could a mother hate her child?!
As if suffering from Postpartum Depression and Anxiety once wasn’t enough it occurred again this past year with my foster son whom we were to adopt.
Again, this little innocent child became my biggest trigger. Looking at him, thinking about all the responsibilities that came with him on top of the responsibilities with my daughter’s Generalized Anxiety Disorder, on top of work with very little help from my husband and I broke down. His face with his cherub dimpled cheeks that I used to love to kiss caused me to dry heave into the toilet. His toddler gibberish that I found adorable now made me scratch my arms with my nails. Worst of all, his coughing from his continuous colds made me want to rip my ears right off my head.
I don’t blame my husband for the lack of help. In both instances it was my alpha personality that prevented him from helping more. I thought I could do it all. It was more painful with my foster son because I was in such a good place mentally, emotionally and physically. I really thought I could do it all again.
Triggers… Some professionals say that they cause the stress and the tension but in my case the stress and the tension caused my daughter and my foster son to become triggers. That looking at both of them caused severe anxiety and ultimately depression. It’s hard living with that. It’s hard to admit that at two points in my life, I was a horrible mother, an incompetent mother.
I will always carry guilt over that. Even as I stare at my daughter now with awe that this beautiful girl is mine… Even as she laughs and I smile… Even as I once again continuously hug and kiss her…
I feel the guilt that at one point just looking at her gave me such negative feelings.