Last Saturday evening, my partner ventured into the city for the first time since the pandemic started to attend an event. After 18 long months of limited social interaction, this felt like a significant milestone. He was thrilled, and I was genuinely happy for him, though I couldn’t shake a bit of anxiety about the COVID situation. He’s vaccinated, and all attendees would be too, plus it was outdoors. Still, COVID can be unpredictable, so I spent the day discussing safety measures with him, like keeping a safe distance and wearing masks when necessary.
As he was leaving, I anticipated a wave of worry, but surprisingly, I felt a sense of relief. Unlike me, he’s extroverted, and I recognized that socializing would rejuvenate him. This feeling of relief, however, reminded me of my past struggles—how I used to dread being alone with our little one at night.
That might sound irrational, right? We were both adults capable of caring for our child. I should have been fine with him going out occasionally. But at that time, I was grappling with untreated postpartum anxiety, a fact I was oblivious to. When our first child was born, I began experiencing symptoms like obsessive thoughts and sleeplessness. I attributed it to the challenges of new motherhood and didn’t seek help. Initially, it didn’t feel that severe.
However, when my son turned two and a half, everything escalated. I experienced an early miscarriage around the same time my son fainted in the bathtub. Fortunately, both situations turned out okay—my miscarriage was distressing, but I was healthy, and my son’s fainting was harmless but terrifying. Nevertheless, I felt triggered.
Months of anxiety combined with severe sleep deprivation culminated in a constant state of panic. I began experiencing regular panic attacks, along with feelings of dissociation and depersonalization, which only intensified my anxiety.
One of my biggest fears during this time was being alone with my son, especially at night. My son was a notoriously poor sleeper. Many toddlers struggle with sleep, but my son was particularly challenging. At two years old, he was still waking multiple times a night, and getting him to sleep felt like an epic battle. The bedtime routine often took 1-2 hours of rocking, shushing, and reading stories.
We tried various methods—adjusting his sleep schedule, introducing naps or eliminating them—but nothing worked. Each night, I dreaded bedtime, and as my anxiety worsened, this dread morphed into outright fear. When my partner was around, he actively participated in the bedtime routine, making it easier. But when he was away, I panicked.
I remember one weekend when my partner attended a college reunion. I nearly begged him not to go because the thought of facing bedtime alone filled me with dread. Of course, I let him go, but my anxiety didn’t ease. One of those nights, standing at our apartment door, fiddling with the keys, my heart raced uncontrollably. I struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the realization that I had to manage the entire evening alone with my son.
This was not an isolated incident. Each time I was left alone for an extended period with my son, especially at night, I felt an intense wave of fear. I loved my son deeply and was fully capable of caring for him; my anxiety, however, was out of control.
I kept my anxiety a secret for a long time, feeling guilty and ashamed. The idea that I was struggling with an aspect of motherhood that I was supposed to handle confidently only heightened my anxiety. I felt like a failure and questioned my abilities as a mother.
Fortunately, I eventually sought help for my postpartum anxiety. Returning to therapy made a significant difference. Within weeks, my panic attacks lessened, my dissociative episodes decreased, and my fear of being alone with my son faded.
My son also became slightly easier to manage at bedtime during this time. While anxiety can distort reality, having a child who consistently took 1-2 hours to fall asleep isn’t typical either. I was right to be stressed about it, but my panic whenever my partner was away was more than a little irrational.
Even now, I hesitate to share how terrified I was during those days of solitude with my child. Despite knowing my fears were irrational and understanding that I am a capable mother, the anxiety of sharing this remains.
Yet, I recognize that many other mothers might be experiencing similar feelings. Postpartum anxiety is real, and it can lead to overwhelming emotions and thoughts that may not make sense. Many parents face these fears, and it’s more common than you might think. If you find yourself feeling anxious about being alone with your child or if any aspect of parenting feels daunting, remember—you are not alone, you are not crazy, and you are not broken. Please reach out for help. It is crucial to address these feelings.
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In summary, I navigated a challenging phase filled with anxiety about being alone with my child. It took time, but seeking help ultimately led to recovery. If you find yourself in a similar situation, don’t hesitate to reach out for support.