Mommy to be at 23

These things I want to say to you. These things I want to express to you. These things I want so badly to let free as they keep ripping me apart. The daily torments of my own mind tipping off the rest of my body not to move. The nightmares that keep consuming me while I sleep that I never know if I am awake or still dreaming. The urge to do something, anything but I am paralyzed in what feels like the grieving stage of who I used to be. The craving and longing for connection but no one understands I just can't see them. Do you hear me? Do you understand me? Or is this glass box around me muffling out my voice.

I wanted to be excited. I wanted the glow that all these seasoned moms talked about, I wanted the joy of becoming a mom to creep in. The constant insecurities plaguing me and the fact I had plenty of time, isolated time... destroyed me.

Fast forward... The screaming. Oh the screaming. I just wanted to continue sitting in my shower floor, knees to my chest and covering my ears while I cried as my newborn son screamed. Looking down at my purple stretch marks and my deformed belly button in disgust. I hated me, I hated my body and part of hated my baby. I couldn't understand why. I never asked for this but neither did he. The shower until is ran cold was my only escaped from my baby in his bouncer chair just past the curtain, once it got cold I didn't even feel it anymore.

I couldn't talk to my husband. He would never understand, not that he tried. I was spiraling and even he knew there was no point in trying to save me. I couldn't even protect myself from damning me. I had just spent the past year home alone in quarantine while he worked and I carried our child. I had plenty of time to wonder if what we had done was even what I wanted. Was I even mature enough to be a mother? Was I even ready to deal with my own toxicity and break generational curses?

All the time in the world, alone, during quarantine was not what I had expected for my first pregnancy and postpartum. I had never planned to not be allowed to leave my house or to see the ones I knew who would share in my back and forth joy. It wasn't always like this. Each day was a cycle of I couldn't wait to hold my baby to I don't know if I want this, my depression was consuming me. I started having irrational fears, and hardly could sleep from the constant anxiety.

These thoughts swarmed my thoughts before my son arrived and after he arrived. I never expected myself to be one of the women who struggled with postpartum depression. I already had untreated depression and anxiety but never did I expect it to be so severe. I felt like if I could just stop breathing for a day. Just a day then maybe I'd miss it. I know that sounds selfish, I had already made my choices and now I had a whole human to take care of. To raise, to teach, to nurture. I loved him, and he always came first but I think never putting myself first, I resented the time I lost. I lost my identity.

I love my son and he saves me every day but I didn't feel right at the thought of putting that on my baby. I was only 23 when my life was altered forever but I would never change it. All the damaging things I put myself through led me to this point. My self destructive behavior was not put on pause but I wanted to do everything in my power to be the better version of me I knew existed inside of me. The road to motherhood is never easy, I have always heard it takes a village but my village was broken, burned down and didn't have the strength or knowledge to see the signs. My boy is my world, it just took some time for me to heal me. I was emotionally unavailable but my son will never go unloved as that wasn't me, it was the depression.

These are the ugly thoughts we aren't supposed to share, the thoughts that shouldn't happen because WE chose this. We are only human, we are messy, we are emotionally immature and sometimes we just thrive in chaos. Mother's are warriors, whether we choose to give them up, we miscarry them or we keep them. I was scared, and it was something that was changing but change is inevitable. It is okay to be honest with yourselves and with the people around you even with these ugly thoughts. There will always be judgement, there will always be opinions and there will always be "advice" but you know you best and your children.

Being expressive and raw, baring your soul can be difficult because mother's are expected to have it together, be organized, be nurturing, never tired, never overstimulated, never having anxiety, never toxic and never fail but we do. We do and we will but we learn and we grow just like they do, it doesn't matter the stage. Life does not have a timeline, we can feel hopeless but we are not disposable. We matter, we are valid, we are capable. These struggles with our mental wellness and challenges with becoming parents will not consume us.

It is okay to not be okay. It is okay to only have 20% to give. It is okay to talk about it.