We've all been there; It's two AM, your six month old is running a fever and the questions are flying: "Do we bring her in? Do we ride it out at home? Should we call the doctor?" And if you're me, you can toss in the questions, "Should we call 911? Arrange a helicopter ride to the nearest hospital? Should I start CPR?" Gut parenting; it's something that we are born with.
Or, rather, should be born with.
"Normal" mothers are implanted with this instinct to just know when something is amiss with their child.
I can't count the number of times a friend has relayed a story that goes something like this: "And I just got this feeling like something wasn't right so I called her school and sure enough, she had just fallen off the slide.
" And us moms "ooh and ahh" over the beauty of that gut instinct.
But what happens when you suffer from anxiety? What happens when any situation is deemed a "critical" one and requires immediate attention? And your gut is constantly "parenting?" Let me enlighten you: -You have the number of poison control memorized and at times, randomly sing the song, "1-800-222-1222.
" -Hand sanitizer is a staple and is everywhere.
On key chains, in diaper bags, in purses, in every pocket, nook and cranny of your car.
In extreme situations, its strapped to your child's pacifier holder.
-You home school your children because you're positive the next school shooting will be at whatever school you enroll your child in.
-Night time is for checking door locks and window locks over and over because you're positive if you don't keep vigilant, you'll be the next story on Nancy Grace.
-You have the WebMD app on your phone and when your kiddo shouts out "my tummy hurts!" you pull over, and immediately access the symptom checker which will then tell you it is not a tummy ache, but instead worms from a river in Indonesia and you must get said child to the nearest emergency room.
This is my life.
This is how I parent.
It's estimated today that one in FOUR adults suffer from anxiety.
WOW.
That means a lot of us are parenting with anxiety.
And that's not a good thing.
The taboo placed on having a mental disorder, such as anxiety or depression along with being a parent must be demolished.
It's not fair to our children for us to be hover crafts, waiting on the verge of fear for the next catastrophe to happen.
But it's not as simple as saying "I'm going to let it go.
I will not worry about little Susie getting to the bus stop this morning.
" There's a fine line; in today's world, little Susie probably shouldn't even be walking to the bus stop alone.
So in a way, we are validated for these feelings.
We watch the news, we see the destruction; the hurt and insanity of life outside our picket fence an we have a right to be afraid! At the same time, encapsulating yourself in a bubble, pretending the outside world doesn't exist will result in sheltered, scared and ultimately anxiety rattled children.
So where do we, as parents with anxiety, draw the line? When do we reign in our own fears and let go of what we can't control? Personally, I had a wake up call when I realized my 6 year old daughter spilled water on her dress and flipped out because of "germs and bacteria.
" I refuse, REFUSE, to pass this illness on to my kids.
As hard as it is to let go and allow them into the current of the world, I have to learn to do so.
Obviously this starts with us, as parents.
It starts with regaining some sense of security in our lives.
And it's not going to happen overnight or alone, but it's a race worth running.
I currently see a therapist where I spill the beans on all of my latest fears and anxieties.
And it feels amazing.
Yes, I said it.
It feels incredible to say my ridiculous thoughts out loud, "Doctor? I have an irrational fear of taking my kids to the zoo because I'm afraid my two year old will fall into the polar bear pool and be eaten.
" And she validates it.
She acknowledges my fear and we talk about it.
By the end of the session I am usually feeling a hundred pounds lighter, knowing that my zoo fear (or whatever it may be that day) has been spoken; the words have hit the walls and the world is still moving.
(side note; the polar bear zoo fear was real, and we actually spent a couple of sessions talking about it).
Am I crazy? Sure, call me that, I don't care.
I'm going to call myself brave.
A pioneer on the trails of something that will eventually be common ground; anxiety.
I'm also going to throw in survivor; I refuse to become a victim to this illness.
Daily, as I let my kid go to ballet class without me, or allow my two year old to pick up her paci off the grocery store floor and stick it back in her mouth, I am declaring my victory.
And it feels incredible.
So moms, dads, parents out there struggling with irrational fears, gripping terror and an unexplainable sense of worry, embrace it.
It's our lot in life.
And then kick it down the stairs.
While anxiety is a part of you, it's not you.
It shouldn't define our actions, our lives.
I hope with my transparency, you can step outside the boundaries, declare you are a statistic ("I'm one of four Americans who will suffer from anxiety this year! Hear me ROAR!"), and get some help.
I promise, its worth it.
For the sake of our children, their future, their sanity and yours.