As mothers, we often find ourselves in various roles, and for some of us, that role is the anxious mom. You know the type—the one who tends to hover a bit too closely over her children at the playground. Our shouts of caution stem not from anger but from an overwhelming sense of fear. We perceive potential hazards in every nook and cranny, imagining the worst-case scenarios that could unfold. We are the “be careful” moms, uttering those words repeatedly throughout the day.
Whenever my child attempts to scale a play structure, my mind races with images of him tumbling and hurting himself. Small pebbles and wood chips transform into choking hazards in my eyes. Even a simple ride on Dad’s shoulders sends my heart racing; what if he suddenly leans back and falls? Don’t even get me started on the couch jumping and where the coffee table is positioned. By mid-morning, I’ve usually moved the table far away, compelled by my anxiety.
You won’t catch me hiking with my toddler strapped to my back. To be fair, even a walk to the park feels like an adventure on its own. While I see peril lurking everywhere, I strive to keep my fears to myself, ensuring they don’t become my son’s burdens. Like many parents, I grapple with the challenge of exposing my child to diverse experiences while staying within my own comfort zones.
Interestingly, I never set out to be the anxious mom. I fondly recall the days when I cradled my pregnant belly and cherished the idea of parenting that embraced outdoor play and independence. I envisioned a relaxed style of motherhood, engaging effortlessly with other laid-back moms while our children explored freely—without me anxiously scanning the playground every few seconds. But then my son, Oliver, entered my life, and I quickly discovered the stark contrast between the mother I aspired to be and the one I have become.
Yes, I am the anxious mom—the one who realizes that my children might someday reminisce about how overprotective I was, perhaps even rolling their eyes at my constant vigilance at the park. They might find it amusing how I braced myself whenever their father encouraged them to leap onto the bed. Maybe one day, I won’t be the anxious mom anymore, and the thought will make my children chuckle. After all, I’m someone who acknowledges her shortcomings and actively works on them. Today, I embrace my role as the anxious mom, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.
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In summary, my experience as an anxious mom is a journey filled with love, concern, and growth. While I may not fit the mold of the relaxed parent I once imagined, I am learning to navigate my anxieties while striving to provide a nurturing environment for my child.
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