Mothering in Fear

This is my wonderful friend's account of her bumpy start to motherhood, and is the twelfth post in the Mothering series.

Being a Mum is the most wonderfully amazing thing I’ve ever experienced but I’d be lying if I said this feeling hadn’t been coupled with anxiety and terror from the moment of conception. I knew I was pregnant before I did the test; I’m not sure how but I just did. We were incredibly blessed to fall pregnant immediately after we’d decided to start trying and I was aware of other peoples’ struggles. Whilst I was delighted and excited I began to have intense feelings of fear about losing the baby and to some extent this robbed me of the joy I knew I should feel. I also felt guilty about having the best news but expecting the worst.  

I had begun to resent God (especially in the first two weeks after Phoebe’s birth). It sounds totally crazy because on one hand I was praising His name for giving me a gorgeous, healthy daughter and on the other my obsessive fear of her dying resurfaced and I spent a vast amount of time sobbing and fearful. I believed He would take her back to teach me a lesson for all my past sins, which totally side steps His wonderful grace and I resented the mean God I had created in my mind. It meant I was scared to pick her up or put her down. Every time she cried I felt sick with fear and I felt consumed with the fear of bringing her into a world that is so horribly broken. BUT God kept putting the right people in my path and blessing me in so many incredible ways through the support of friends and family. This resentment didn’t last long as friends prayed with me and the truth set me free.

Nothing prepared me for these feelings and the dreaded sleep deprivation but equally nothing prepared me for the amount of love you can feel for a person as soon as they enter your life. I spent hours mesmerised by Phoebe, mentally studying every part of her and falling more in love every day. I had thought I was prepared (the nursery looked great and I had clothes, nappies, etc) but I wasn’t prepared for not being the most important person in my life. It sounds awful but it’s true. It’s a crazy learning curve but a fantastic one. It is actually incredibly releasing to have someone else to occupy your thoughts, especially if you’re prone to fear of man and over analysing yourself. I love that Phoebe comes first and it makes me feel closer to God; I understand more about how He sees me as a daughter because if I love Phoebe an insane amount, I have faith that He loves me even more.

Three weeks in (when the overwhelming feeling of being out of my depth had begun to subside) I got mastitis for a second time. To cut a long story short I’ll list it: Mastitis, allergic reaction to penicillin, ambulance, adrenalin, oxygen, morphine, drip, abscesses and MRSA infection. I was in hospital for 5 days. My parents were amazing and looked after Phoebe and my husband Doug visited as much as possible. The hospital was wonderful and gave me my own room so Phoebe could visit. Friends prayed for me and sent a constant stream of messages and cards. I look back and see a time of incredible Godly provision. "On my bed i remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me". Psalm 63v6-8 

At the time I truly had moments where I thought I was dying. The pain was excruciating and the infection made my limbs feel like lead so I struggled to even hold Phoebe. I stopped breast-feeding and felt incredibly relieved and utterly guilty. I didn’t feel guilty for Phoebe’s sake but instead like I’d let motherhood down. I still struggle to bottle feed in public and feel the compulsive need to over explain the decision to bottle-feed. The enemy got a good foothold and I felt like I would be particularly judged by Christian friends, which was a total lie. In fact most people were incredibly supportive and sympathetic.The hardest thing about being in hospital was being away from Phoebe, who could only visit. I cried a lot, read trashy mags, spent way too much time on facebook until I finally decided to pray properly (not just the constant request for God to stop the pain) and listen to preaches. God broke into my sadness and loneliness in that time but also broke a big part of my fear surrounding Phoebe. He assured me that Phoebe was in His hands and I felt an assurance of the fact I’d been chosen to be her Mum, entrusted with her care and given the Holy Spirit to help me do this. 

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God". Philippians 4v6

This time helped me appreciate my own parents in a whole new way and it also helped me realise that however many books you read, to be a good parent you need to pray hard, love unconditionally and trust God. Nothing can prepare anyone to be a parent but it is so essential to be open and talk to existing parents. This has helped me realise how normal all my feelings have been. The enemy loves us to feel isolated but being a parent gives you access to an incredible club where people will go out of their way to support you and are desperate for you to succeed. No-one is waiting for you to slip up; instead everyone knows the highs and lows and is ready to step in and help whether it’s at church, mother and baby groups, family or friends. But even in the moments when it seems so hard and it’s you and a screaming baby, God is very present with the desire for us to be like Him. I have to rely on His provision of energy and patience and also to take His lead and know when to rest. I am so grateful for the incredible gift of a daughter and that will always outweigh the momentary lows, which are quickly forgotten. Being a Mum is awesome!