5 Steps to Fight Fear
We just celebrated Mother’s Day here in the U.S. this past weekend. As I’m sure any mother could attest, there are a lot of joys to motherhood, but unfortunately there are some downsides too. As a mother, one of the things I’ve had to learn is how to fight fear. It’s almost laughable the things that could go through a mom’s head and the “what if” scenarios that frequently play out in our imaginations!
Learning to fight fear is not only something that comes in handy as a mother but it is also a skill that proves beneficial in all aspects of life regardless of your role. We all need to learn to fight fear. Today I thought I’d share some of my previous crazy mom fears with you in addition to giving you a few steps and strategies that have helped me to fight fear in hopes of helping you overcome your own fears.
Some of my crazy pre-mom fears
In a previous post, I mentioned that before even having kids I had fears about becoming a mom, to the point I used to swear off ever having kids. I feared that I didn’t have what it took to be a good mom. My nature is not typically very maternal, nurturing, nor very “lovey-dovey”. In my mind I didn’t fit the “good mom mold”. I just knew I would mess the kids up.
I feared what having kids would do to my body. Really, I mean stretch marks, droopy boobs, and the potential of never achieving that pre-baby body again means the end of the world, right? Then of course the potential pain of childbirth was extremely unnerving and fear-inducing.
Now, after having 2 kiddos I know that those fears were unfounded. Although somewhat true, they were nothing to truly fear. I was able to fight through and overcome each of them.
Crazy new mom fears I had
Then after having kids you wouldn’t believe the crazy scenarios that would play through my head. For example, I explicitly remember that every time I would go into my mom’s bedroom in her house to nurse, I would sit on her bed and immediately start having these fears of lifting the baby up with both arms only to whack their little, soft baby head on the shelves that are over my mom’s bed. In my imagination, this would of course result in severe head and brain injury…blood…death…all from a bookshelf and nursing. Yep. Told you I was crazy!
Or…In my split level home I have a set of brick stairs that go down into the living room. Walking with the baby, I would imagine myself tripping down the stairs and launching the baby into the air across the room where he/she would of course, you know…die.
Then nearly EVERY SINGLE TIME after I would drop the kids off with my mom or whoever else might be watching them, when I would exit my vehicle to go into a gas station, grocery store, or work I would have a minor panic attack…”Did I leave the kids in the car? Did I FOR SURE drop them off already?”
I had frequent crazy fears that I was somehow going to inadvertently kill my kids…forget them…lose them…or just permanently mess them up in some way, shape, or form.
