![]() ![]() In my job, I have seen how intrusive thoughts can grow tentacles into nearly every part of mothers’ lives: self-worth, relationships, careers and faith. Like a song on repeat, I’m a bad mom was living in my head rent-free and tearing me into a million pieces. ![]() My thoughts about being a bad mom would creep in when I would try to pray, and they would distract me when I was caring for my son. Believing that I was a bad mom, that I wasn’t enough to take care of my baby, the baby boy I would give my life for. Around and around it went until I was a puddle of despair. I loved him to my core, but I was starting to believe that I was the worst mom in history. So when my son was born, I wasn’t expecting to feel overwhelmed, exhausted, frustrated, anxious, sad, helpless and hopeless. I’m not afraid of the storm - I was made for it. ![]() Like a storm chaser, I run toward the whirlwind of emotions rather than away from it. Emotions have never made me uncomfortable. His everything was just as it should be.Īs a therapist, I’m no stranger to tears. His red hair caught the crisp sunlight as it filtered through my dusty bedroom window. I looked down into the bright blue eyes of my newborn baby boy. “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things.” Philippians 4:8 (NIV) ![]()
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