You Are Safe :: Motherhood and Mental Health

I was laying down at bedtime with my six year old recently. I had already given the “no more talking” warning, which she typically obeys. But her small voice piped up quietly and asked if she could say one more thing. I agreed and what she said next was a most valuable gift. 

“Mom, when I am with you, I feel safe.”

What life-giving words. To me, “mother” is practically synonymous with “safe place” – or at least, that’s the ideal. At every point in my daughters’ lives, I seek to be a refuge for them. From the moment they were conceived and deeply hidden in my womb, through the precarious toddler years where every other step is a near disaster, into childhood when they can begin to take care of themselves, to the teenage years and beyond when problems and danger become more complex and complicated. Through it all, when they think of me, I want them to feel warmth and unconditional love and safety.

But, you see, there was a period of time during my motherhood journey when I did not feel safe at all. Quite the opposite in fact: I felt dangerous. I began noticing changes in my emotions and demeanor during the end of my pregnancy with our second child. Of course, at the time I was tired and huge, chasing around a two (almost three) year old so it made sense that I was exhausted, frustrated, and more than my normal amount of irritable. Our second baby arrived and all was well for a few months as those so-in-love-with-new-baby endorphins carried me through long days and sleepless nights. However, about eight months after that sweet baby was born, I started having really bad days.

I distinctly remember the monster panic attack that prompted me to get healthy. It was mid-morning, my husband had been gone at work for a couple hours, and the girls and I were still in our PJs. We were playing on the floor in our living room and, out of nowhere, a feeling of doom settled over my body and mind. I froze. Like a machine programmed to power down at any sign of overexertion, my arms involuntarily clutched my legs to my chest, I buried my face into my knees and just breathed. The baby was cooing and swatting at the woodland friends dangling from her bouncer. My toddler was crawling all over me, nonstop chatter, laughing, and singing. Meanwhile, a war was waging in my head as my heart was beating like a drum. “What is happening to me? How do I make this stop? What should I do? When will this be over?” and then this thought flashed through my mind and prompted me to pick up my phone and call anyone, “Is this how a person feels before they do something actually crazy or…permanent? Am I not safe to be around right now?” I had read far too many stories of mothers snapping and doing the unthinkable.  While I couldn’t ever even conceive of hurting myself or my children, I did not recognize the person who I was in that moment – and it was terrifying. 

I called everyone. First my husband, then my mother and sister, then four of my best friends. Everyone answered. Every. Single. One. As we spoke, my body began to relax and my breathing slowed. They are a safe place for me. The problem didn’t end there, though. I didn’t sleep for the next two nights and it had nothing to do with a child being awake. Every time I went to lay down, the anxiety returned. Those nights, I threw up stomach acid every 20 minutes and paced the hall until the sun came up. On the third day when I could still feel anxiety bubbling within, I knew I had to get this thing figured out now. 

These are three things that helped propel me out of that dangerous whirlpool and back onto safe, solid ground.

1. Confront it. If this scene feels at all familiar, don’t live like that for one more day. I strongly encourage you to see your doctor. My doctor did blood work and the labs came back showing I had an improperly functioning thyroid. Do you want to guess what some symptoms of a malfunctioning thyroid are? Anxiety, panic attacks, depression…and way more. I’m not suggesting that every case of anxiety can be tracked back to the thyroid, but I am suggesting that you need to see a doctor. A medical doctor. A holistic doctor. A therapist. A professional who has worked with hundreds of other women just like you and me and can speak to a best course of action.
2. Community. Remember in my story when I started calling my safe place people? I am so immeasurably blessed to have family and friends who love me, pray for me, listen to me, answer my phone calls. Where would I be as a wife and mother if I did not have this community holding me up when I can’t do it on my own? We can’t and shouldn’t try to do motherhood alone. One thing I know: Every mother needs a support system. Every mother needs an encourager. Every mother needs to know she has a team of people cheering her on. Do you have this community? If you don’t, please find one at church, your kid’s school, local moms/MOPS groups – where people like us gather. The key here is finding people with whom you can be your real self. 
3. Know that this won’t last forever. After finding out I had thyroid issues, I decided to try and treat the problem naturally. I made major changes to my diet and committed to spending time each day praying/meditating and improving my emotional and mental health. I had my labs checked one year later and my thyroid numbers were/are back to normal; I haven’t had a single bout of anxiety in three years. One of the darkest parts of the anxiety was the lie I believed that told me the panic would never end. That I would be forever burdened with that crushing feeling of doom. That I was dangerous instead of safe. At the time this started, I was only 29 years old. I would think ahead to the future and be overwhelmed, anticipating a lifelong battle. It loomed ominously and felt like a treadmill I could never get off of…and I was running ragged. To anyone who suffers from this affliction I want to say, “This won’t go on forever.” In the short-term, the panic attack itself will be over soon – maybe even just a couple more minutes; and in the long-term, the larger issue of why you are experiencing anxiety (or whatever other mental illness) also has an expiration date. The qualifier here being that you address it and commit yourself to a counter-attack strategy.

Being a mother is very hard – and more so when your hormones aren’t cooperating. However, I can say in all honesty and with total confidence that my children are never safer than they are with me. I AM a safe place and my oldest daughter affirmed me with her words at bedtime that night. Telling someone about your struggle is an intimidating thing, but I have found that as I become more vulnerable, open, and honest about my experiences, the easier it is for the people around me to admit that they’ve experienced something similar. In being vulnerable, I can be a safe place not only for my family, but for all of you other warrior-mothers out there just trying to do the best you can. What about you? Have you experienced anxiety, panic or depression? What are the most effective ways you’ve combated it?