Parenting
Let me begin by saying that sharing my story is one of the most candid and terrifying things I’ve ever done. I hope that by opening up, I can offer support to other mothers grappling with anxiety, depression, and crushing guilt.
When children experience accidents, the judgment from others can be swift and harsh. Comments like, “These parents don’t deserve to have kids,” or “I hope their children are taken away,” can come pouring in. Such words are not only painful; they compound the suffering of an already distressing situation. Yet, nothing compares to the torment that a mother feels internally after an incident.
Even now, nearly 18 months later, I find myself overwhelmed with emotion when I think back to that day. The memories tighten my chest, and I realize that the guilt I carry will likely never fade completely. When my daughter tests my patience, I am often flooded with remorse, reflecting on how different our lives could have been had that day ended differently.
Our youngest, whom we named Chloe, swallowed a small button battery. In a moment of distraction while my partner and I were tidying up, I left an open bag containing three batteries on a nearby bench. I can’t even recall turning away. But when I glanced over to check on Chloe, I saw her on the floor, clutching the bag and swallowing something. Rushing to her, I instinctively knew what had happened. I checked the bag and confirmed my worst fear—one battery was missing.
In that moment, panic seized me. I had read about the dangers associated with battery ingestion and urged my partner to take us to the hospital immediately. At first, he didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation until he searched for information online and realized the risks involved. The look on his face, as he tried to maintain calm for my sake, is etched in my memory.
Desperately, I kept asking Chloe questions like, “Did you swallow the battery?” But as any parent knows, getting clear answers from a two-year-old is nearly impossible. She kept responding with vague affirmations and denials, unwilling to admit she was in trouble.
The car ride to the hospital felt interminable. My heart raced as I watched Chloe lick her lips and play with her tongue, and each time she bubbled saliva, my fear deepened. In my heightened state of anxiety, I envisioned the battery causing severe damage to her esophagus.
Upon our arrival, she was quickly taken for x-rays. I was pregnant at the time, so I stayed behind, paralyzed with fear as I waited. When the doctor finally called me in, I found Chloe sitting on a hospital bed, scared and bewildered. The x-ray revealed she had swallowed the battery, but fortunately, it had moved past her esophagus and into her stomach.
We were incredibly lucky—the doctor assured us that she would pass it naturally within a few days, and indeed, the very next day, she did. She emerged from the incident unscathed and as vibrant as ever.
However, this event triggered a severe spiral into depression and anxiety for me. I found it challenging to get out of bed, cried daily, and often wondered if I would have made it through without being pregnant. I could not shake the feeling that I had nearly caused my child’s death and believed I was failing as both a mother and a partner.
It took time for me to muster the courage to seek help. My first doctor dismissed my concerns, merely referring me to someone else. Thankfully, my midwife connected me with a counselor who could visit my home at little to no cost, but I still needed a new referral. The second doctor I saw was exceptional—he took the time to talk with me about mental health issues and assured me that seeking help was not a sign of failure. This validation gave me hope. Over the next year, the counselor’s regular visits provided the support I desperately needed, helping lift me from the depths of my struggles.
This experience opened my eyes to the very real phenomenon of mom guilt, and it underscored the importance of having a supportive community. Parents should never have to face their challenges alone; what they need is compassion rather than condemnation. If you find yourself in a similar situation, remember that sharing your feelings is crucial to healing.
Today, we are incredibly fortunate to have our joyful, thriving three-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Chloe, filling our lives with happiness. I am endlessly grateful for her presence and for the support system that helped me navigate my way back to appreciation for what we have. Those who treated me with kindness and respect during my darkest days will always hold a special place in my heart.
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Summary
In my candid account, I share the harrowing experience of my daughter swallowing a button battery and how it plunged me into a deep depression. The guilt I felt was overwhelming, and the harsh judgments from others only added to the burden. However, with the help of a compassionate counselor and a supportive community, I slowly began to heal and learn that seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Today, my daughter is healthy and thriving, and I am grateful for the lessons learned through this challenging experience.