Last night was restless, with me tossing and turning, a familiar routine that seems to worsen with each passing day. The more I attempt to find sleep, the more my anxiety escalates. It feels as if an unnamed weight rises within me, suffocating my thoughts and preventing me from resting. I often find myself pacing through the house, questioning how my life shifted from a soldier’s discipline to the chaos of motherhood.
I have faced numerous stressful situations, having served in a war zone. Yet, from an outsider’s perspective, my life may appear enviable. Overall, I am fortunate; I have three young children who are healthy, joyful, and, bless them, excellent sleepers. They hardly cause me trouble, and for that, I am grateful. My husband, whom I adore, works tirelessly to provide for our family without complaint.
So why this overwhelming sense of unease? There’s a persistent thought lurking in the background, surfacing only when night descends, allowing me to confront and analyze my feelings repeatedly.
At 18, I enlisted in the Army, experiencing a whirlwind of activity and responsibility. Deployed to Iraq at 19, I held the safety of an entire Forward Operating Base in my hands. It was during this time that I met my husband, and the journey of our lives together began.
Transitioning from soldier to stay-at-home mom has been a profound change. I am consumed by my three-year-old and two-year-old twins; they are my world, and I am theirs. While it is a beautiful experience, it is also incredibly taxing.
At 24, I feel as if my life is on pause. Friends and family members are advancing in their careers and celebrating achievements, and while I genuinely feel happy for them, this only deepens my sense of emptiness. I know I should feel nothing but gratitude for this opportunity to nurture my children, to shape their futures, and to share in their joys. Instead, I’m left with a suffocating panic, feeling as though I am being left behind while life rushes past me.
Each night, I find myself wandering the floors, on the brink of tears, yearning for someone to reassure me that it’s okay—that this feeling will pass. I wish to hear that I am blessed, lucky, and that one day I will reclaim the opportunity to live beyond these four walls. Yet, I am too frightened to voice these feelings, scared of judgment and the implications of my struggles.
When I first imagined motherhood, I envisioned tender moments spent with my child, tucking them in at night and cherishing our bond. Yet, the daily grind has left me utterly exhausted, robbing me of the joy I long to experience.
Life was simpler when I was a soldier. War is straightforward compared to the complexities of motherhood. The rules are clear: survive, perform your duties, and keep moving forward. In contrast, motherhood feels like an endless maze of uncertainty, where the right path is often unclear, and the stakes feel incredibly high.
This is my plea for connection, a moment of vulnerability. I’m admitting that I’m struggling and desperately seeking a way to be the mother my children can be proud of. For those interested in exploring more about home insemination, you can find helpful information at CryoBaby. This resource offers insights into how to navigate parenthood. Additionally, UCSF’s Center is an excellent resource for anyone considering pregnancy or home insemination, and their letter to patients can be found here.
Summary:
This reflection shares the challenges of motherhood, comparing it to the author’s experiences as a soldier. Despite a seemingly blessed life, the weight of anxiety and feelings of inadequacy loom large. The piece expresses a longing for connection and understanding while highlighting the complexities of parenting versus military life.