It’s well after 8 p.m., and my son should be tucked in for the night. Tonight is one of those rare occasions when his dad is home, and I should be relishing a break from the usual toddler bedtime chaos, especially since my baby daughter is peacefully asleep. Yet, as often happens on these “bedtime-free” nights, my little one has been wailing for the last 40 minutes, fighting sleep while my husband tries everything from coaxing to pleading to redirecting him. This scenario feels all too familiar.
Finally, the house falls silent, and I find myself cheering for my husband’s apparent success. But then, I hear the baby gate swing open, followed by my son’s anxious call: “Mommy?” I hold my breath, expecting to see my husband carefully guiding our son back to his room, but instead, I hear it again, louder this time: “MOMMY?” So, I rush toward the sound.
There he is at the top of the stairs, navigating down the steps alone, his chubby hand against the cool wall for support. My heart races as I realize he’s never done this without one of us in front of him. Panic sets in, and I scream for my husband, shouting, “Stop! Just wait!”
In an instant, my husband swoops in and scoops up our son, and the bedroom door clicks shut. He’s safe. But in my mind, I can’t shake the terrifying imagery of my sweet boy tumbling down the stairs—a nightmare that plays on an endless loop. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it keeps coming back. To cope, I hit my temple repeatedly, a ritual I’ve relied on since childhood whenever I’m overwhelmed by a frightening thought. I know it doesn’t help, yet I persist, hoping to reset my mind, only to feel a wave of nausea wash over me as the horror returns.
Unfortunately, this ritual ruins the relaxing evening my husband envisioned for us. As we sit on the couch, watching our favorite show, I find myself cursing and hitting my head, while my husband tenses up and withdraws his arms, unsure how to help.
I’ve battled obsessive-compulsive disorder for most of my life. Before having children, my obsessions revolved around my own mortality, but now that I have kids, my fears have intensified. I can’t cook without worrying that I might poison them, so I often avoid it altogether. Every day, when my son leaves for daycare with my husband, I perform certain rituals—both silent and spoken—because the thought of something terrible happening to them feels imminent.
If I let my daughter cry and she eventually calms down by herself, I rush in to wake her, already mourning the loss of a future I fear she may not have. When I deal with a clogged duct from nursing, I push so hard, convinced it could be cancer, that I end up injuring myself, imagining a future where my children grow up without me. Despite the reassurance from doctors and tests that show everything is fine, I can’t escape the compulsive thoughts that keep me awake at night. My inner voice taunts me: You’ll be gone soon. Your children will resent you.
I’ve carried this burden my entire life, and even on my best days, OCD finds a way to inflict suffering. It’s the part of me I despise the most. I wrestle with it, but there’s no escape.
Before parenthood, I was aware that I might pass this mental illness on to my children. Now that they’re here, my love for them complicates everything. If they inherit this condition, how do I love them fully while wrestling with my own issues? Does loving them mean accepting their OCD? Can I continue to despise it while still providing the unconditional love they deserve? If I struggle to accept this part of them, am I failing as a parent?
For now, I’m thankful that my son didn’t tumble down the stairs tonight. I’ll cling to that small victory.
For more insights on navigating parenting challenges, check out this post on couples’ fertility journey. Additionally, if you’re looking for more information on home insemination, BabyMaker at Home Insemination Kit is a great resource. For those seeking guidance on fertility treatments, WebMD’s slideshow offers excellent information.
In summary, living with OCD as a parent presents unique challenges, especially when it comes to protecting and nurturing my children. While I wrestle with my fears and intrusive thoughts, I strive to find moments of gratitude, like the simple relief of knowing my son is safe tonight.
Keyphrase: Parenting with OCD
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]