Living with anxiety as a mom
The first anxiety attack I remember having was in June 2018. For days, I couldn’t breathe. I was dizzy, nauseous and couldn’t sleep. I went to the doctor and my lab work came back normal. And then my nurse friends gently told me that it was probably anxiety.
I’d heard about anxiety but I never attributed it to myself. I considered myself stronger than that. I could handle stress - for a decade, I lived 100 miles an hour, fully caffeinated and usually sleep deprived. I was the one who could do everything and still be fine.
Until life slowed down. I finished the tax busy season and for a few weeks, work was really slow and me, being me, had anxiety about not having enough to do. I couldn’t handle the slowness. For most of my life, I’ve tied my worth to my productivity and my accomplishments, so the concept of going to work and not having something to do gave me anxiety.
Very few people know this, but that’s the summer I saw a Christian therapist. I was ashamed of that. I was raised to not show weakness, because if guys knew something like that, it would make me not marriage material. No one wants someone broken like that.
Therapy helped. So did practical things my therapist and doctor told me to do: eat healthy, exercise, limit caffeine, sleep, ice packs, and being outdoors.
But none of that “fixed” or “cured me.” The thing about anxiety is you can be fine for months — even years — and then it flares up out of nowhere.
When I became a mom, my anxiety skyrocketed (I’m sure the postpartum hormones and lack of sleep didn’t help!). It would come in waves, with the worst episodes when Levi cried uncontrollably as a newborn. In response, my body would start shaking and my mind would go into panic mode.
What made it so much harder is that babies pick up on their mother’s emotions. When I am anxious, so is he. When I am at peace, he calms down too. So, as I struggled to control my body to stop panicking in response to my baby’s crying, he would cry harder because he felt my racing heart.
Sometimes, with a will I didn’t know I possessed and a whispered prayer, I would be able to breathe and get myself under control, calming us both down.
But there were times when I had to walk away. I’d put Levi down in his crib or bassinet and leave to another room or go outside for a few minutes. There were several times my husband came home to find me sitting on the stairs sobbing and shaking, while Levi screamed and cried upstairs in his crib.
This wasn’t new to me. It wasn’t just postpartum anxiety. It’s always been a part of me. For example, one of my brothers has a booming voice. He could be telling a funny story, but to a passerby, it would sound like he’s shouting. So, when he’s upset, he’s extra loud.
Growing up, I would have to leave the room when his tone got to a certain calibar because my body would go into panic mode thinking I was under attack, even if my brother wasn’t talking to me but someone else nearby. I couldn’t control my reaction. It just happened based on the tone and caliber of his voice.
But when it happened to me as a mom, I called myself a bad mom. I hated my body and mind for betraying me. I hated that I couldn’t comfort my baby because I couldn't control what my own body was doing.
These are the severe episodes, which, praise God, were rare.
But the anxiety would show up in other ways in my daily life as a mom.
It was the underlying layer of quiet worry every time we went out in public when Levi was a baby - what if he cried uncontrollably and I couldn’t calm him down? What if he didn’t go down for his nap? What will people think? What will I do? If he gets overtired, the rest of the day and night will be so hard.
Because those first few months, nights were so hard. I would dread the evening, knowing what was coming. Worrying how I’d make it through.
It was the constant second guessing and mom guilt, made worse by looking at how others mothered on social media and in my community.
It was the pressure to “enjoy this season” and “be present” even as you’re hyper aware of everything and constantly “on” 24/7, so to be told to enjoy it just added to the anxiety that you’re also failing at that part of motherhood too.
Don’t get me wrong - as hard as it was, it wasn’t all hard, and hard isn’t bad. But if you’ve ever battled anxiety, you’ll understand, and hopefully you’ll feel less alone reading this. But if you haven’t, then I rejoice for you and hope it won’t ever be a part of your story.
Forty-two percent of working mothers were diagnosed with anxiety or depression in 2022 compared with 28% of the general population, according to a Harris Poll survey commissioned by CVS Health. High-achievers are particularly prone to anxiety, which also is twice as common among women as it is among men. So it happens more than we think or admit.
But I don’t want to be an anxious mom. I refuse to make that my identity.
Yes, sometimes, I can’t control the physical reaction, but I’ve tried really hard to learn how to deal with it and not let it seep into our home and family. Because in all things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us (Romans 8:37).
And it has gotten better as I’ve continued to learn how to manage my anxiety better and not let it rule over my body, mind and life. Here’s what helps me:
Prayer. I only find peace at His feet. He is the only one who can still my racing heart when my anxiety creeps in and even breathing is hard to do. I feel like my postpartum and newborn season was one un-ending prayer and it was my own miracle because His peace truly sustained me.
Storing up His truth in my heart. I spend a lot of time in the Psalms when I’m anxious. I just read and read because I believe the Bible is the living word of God that has power even when my mind may not comprehend it. I recited Isaiah 40:11 and 1 Peter 5:7 a million times postpartum.
Exercise. This year, I’ve been trying to exercise for 20-30 minutes 2-4 times a week, and the weeks I am consistent in this, my anxiety is almost non-existent. But if I skip a week or two, my anxiety gets triggered so much faster.
Fresh air. Being outside and walking also help a lot!
Decreasing stimulants. I’ve noticed there is a direct correlation between how much sugar and caffeine I consume and my anxiety. I can definitely be better about eating less sugar and caffeine, but when I notice my anxiety going up, I’ll try to monitor what I eat and drink that day to bring my anxiety back down. Also, I noticed that if I watch a tv show with lots of action or drama, by the end of the episode I’ll be super anxious and then it takes hours to unwind, so I try to be very careful of what I watch. Same with social media - when I am anxious, going on social media amplifies it.
Most of all, I’ve learned that anxiety does not make me a bad mom. It makes me a mom dependent on Jesus.
Because my anxiety reminds me that I don’t have control and I don’t have to do everything in my own strength, which I am prone to try to do. It’s taught me that God doesn’t need the “perfect” or the “have it all together” versions of me. Anxiety keeps me anchored in Him because I need Him to be my constant source of peace.
So, I’m grateful that anxiety is part of who I am - that this is the thorn in my side that reminds me His power is made perfect in my weakness. In the words of Apostle Paul:
“So then, I will boast most gladly about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may reside in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, with insults, with troubles, with persecutions and difficulties for the sake of Christ, for whenever I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor. 12:9-10).
