Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

My heart was racing, my head had a million fears, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The weight of the world was on me, and the pressures of a new 7-pound baby were all in my face.

Nighttime scared the hell out of me. The sun would creep down, the light in the sky would give a colored glow and my anxiety turned on.

Dark turned into fear, and I was fearful of my night. This feeling was a sense I felt for my first two months of my new motherhood role.

I was fearful of not being the best mother. I was fearful I wouldn’t be able to calm her down. I was afraid that my life has changed immensely and what did I do to myself. Did I lose ME?

When my daughter was two months old, I started to get the hang of it.

Nights were not scary anymore, and I had somewhat of a routine.

I had a day that I still think back. I was changing my daughter in her room, and I wasn’t stressed. I was doing my thing.

Then all of a sudden anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know it was coming, and the feeling was so intense I was afraid for my new baby. I panicked, and I felt like I may pass out.

I grabbed her and ran down my stairs as fast as I could run. Thank goodness my father in law was downstairs.

I hit the last step and handed off my nine pounder bundle of joy, and locked my eyes with him. I screamed in a frightened voice; I need to go outside can you give me a minute?

He had no clue the feeling I was feeling. I felt like I couldn’t take my next breath. My chest was tight, and I needed to breathe. My heart was racing like it may pop out of my chest.

This was an anxiety attack.

They come on whenever. They don’t care what you are doing. They are a part of motherhood.

He grabbed the baby from my arms, and I darted for the door. I turned the handle and gasped for breath once I walked outside.

The outdoors was the only place that was safe to me. The fresh air is my medicine. Breathe, and breathe, and just like that, I feel my body calming down.

My chest collapses and my heart starts to calm, and my breathing is controlled.

It’s the worst and a scary place to be. But mothers rarely talk about it.

I never brought up this scary feeling to others, because what kind of mother would I be?

Just last week I was having coffee with a couple of my mama friends. The topic of anxiety came up. I felt at peace because they too have had anxiety.

One of my friends mentioned it’s the hormones. A light bulb went off. That makes sense.

I feel like anxiety now lives in me. I think horrible thoughts. I’m scared and fearful for my daughter and protect her like no other.

I fear I may leave her, and I go to great lengths to not have my brain go there.

Motherhood can be scary; you are fearful of so much in this world. That the fear starts taking over parts of your body.

I’m done living in fear. I need to flood my head with good thoughts.

I’m tired of thinking about the future and just want to live now. In the moment. With my daughter.

I’m done hiding behind anxiety, and I’m ready to move forward and work with it.

Breathe, motherhood is a world of feelings. Let’s feel the real emotions, and escape the unknown.

We aren’t superheroes that control everything. We are mothers that only can control our bundles of joy and us.

Just know you are not alone.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Megan O'Neil

I live in Southern California near the beach. I’m a mom to a pint size toddler, a stepmom to an energized kid, and a wife to my lovely husband. I blog all day every day about the non sugar coated side of motherhood. I take pictures of my kids screaming in the aisles of grocery stores & sip on my coffee all morning long, Target is my happy place, and I get giddy when I shop through flea markets. I cook, eat organic, and I’m a girly girl all the way! I write during nap time and watch endless amounts of reality tv. Find my website here http://themothereffintruth.com/

Until I See You in Heaven, I’ll Cherish Precious Memories of You

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Toddler girl with bald head, color photo

Your memory floats through my mind so often that I’m often seeing two moments at once. I see the one that happened in the past, and I see the one I now live each day. These two often compete in my mind for importance. I can see you in the play of all young children. Listening to their fun, I hear your laughter clearly though others around me do not. A smile might cross my face at the funny thing you said once upon a time that is just a memory now prompted by someone else’s young child. The world...

Keep Reading

The Day My Mother Died I Thought My Faith Did Too

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Holding older woman's hand

She left this world with an endless faith while mine became broken and shattered. She taught me to believe in God’s love and his faithfulness. But in losing her, I couldn’t feel it so I believed it to be nonexistent. I felt alone in ways like I’d never known before. I felt helpless and hopeless. I felt like He had abandoned my mother and betrayed me by taking her too soon. He didn’t feel near the brokenhearted. He felt invisible and unreal. The day my mother died I felt alone and faithless while still clinging to her belief of heaven....

Keep Reading

Can I Still Trust Jesus after Losing My Child?

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Sad woman with hands on face

Everyone knows there is a time to be born and a time to die. We expect both of those unavoidable events in our lives, but we don’t expect them to come just 1342 days apart. For my baby daughter, cancer decided that the number of her days would be so many fewer than the hopeful expectation my heart held as her mama. I had dreams that began the moment the two pink lines faintly appeared on the early morning pregnancy test. I had hopes that grew with every sneak peek provided during my many routine ultrasounds. I had formed a...

Keep Reading

To the Healthcare Workers Who Held My Broken Heart

In: Grief, Loss
Baby hat with hospital certificate announcing stillbirth, color photo

We all have hard days at work. Those days that push our physical, mental, and emotional limits out of bounds and don’t play fair. 18 years ago, I walked into an OB/GYN emergency room feeling like something was off, just weeks away from greeting our first child. As I reflect on that day, which seems like a lifetime ago and also just yesterday, I find myself holding space for the way my journey catalyzed a series of impossibly hard days at work for some of the people who have some of the most important jobs in the world. RELATED: To...

Keep Reading

I Loved You to the End

In: Grief, Living
Dog on outdoor chair, color photo

As your time on this earth came close to the end, I pondered if I had given you the best life. I pondered if more treatment would be beneficial or harmful. I pondered if you knew how much you were loved and cherished As the day to say goodbye grew closer, I thought about all the good times we had. I remembered how much you loved to travel. I remembered how many times you were there for me in my times of darkness. You would just lay right next to me on the days I could not get out of...

Keep Reading

I Hate What the Drugs Have Done but I Love You

In: Grief, Living
Black and white image of woman sitting on floor looking away with arms covering her face

Sister, we haven’t talked in a while. We both know the reason why. Yet again, you had a choice between your family and drugs, and you chose the latter. I want you to know I still don’t hate you. What I do hate is the drugs you always seem to go back to once things get too hard for you. RELATED: Love the Addict So Hard it Hurts Speaking of hard, I won’t sugarcoat the fact that being around you when you’re actively using is so hard. Your anger, your manipulation, and your deceit are too much for me (or anyone around you) to...

Keep Reading

Giving Voice to the Babies We Bury

In: Grief, Loss
Woman looking up to the sky, silhouette at sunset

In the 1940s, between my grandmother’s fourth child and my father, she experienced the premature birth of a baby. Family history doesn’t say how far along she was, just that my grandfather buried the baby in the basement of the house I would later grow up in. This was never something I heard my grandmother talk about, and it was a shock to most of us when we read her history. However, I think it’s indicative of what women for generations have done. We have buried our grief and not talked about the losses we have experienced in losing children through...

Keep Reading

I Asked the Questions and Mother Had the Answers. Now What?

In: Grief, Living, Loss
Older woman smiling at wedding table, black-and-white photo

No one is really ever prepared for loss. Moreover, there is no tutorial on all that comes with it. Whether you’ve lost an earring, a job, a relationship, your mind, or a relative, there is one common truth to loss. Whatever you may have lost . . . is gone. While I was pregnant with my oldest son, my mother would rub my belly with her trembling hands and answer all my questions. She had all the answers, and I listened to every single one of them. This deviated from the norm in our relationship. My mother was a stern...

Keep Reading

A Friend Gone Too Soon Leaves a Hole in Your Heart

In: Friendship, Grief, Loss
Two women hugging, color older photo

The last living memory I have of my best friend before she died was centered around a Scrabble board. One letter at a time, we searched for those seven letters that would bring us victory. Placing our last words to each other, tallying up points we didn’t know the meaning of at the time. Sharing laughter we didn’t know we’d never share again. Back in those days, we didn’t have Instagram or Facebook or Snapchat or whatever other things teenagers sneak onto their phones to capture the moments. So the memory is a bit hazy. Not because it was way...

Keep Reading

Grief Lingers in Hospital Walls

In: Grief, Loss
Hospital hallway

We drive by a hospital. It’s not the one my mother was in, but it still brings the same sting and reminders. It brings pain just looking in the windows, knowing what’s inside. Sickness. Death. Dying. Probably other things too, but my mind doesn’t know those. It knows the devastation of test results, and surgeries, and cancer—my mother’s cancer. It only took 10 seconds to pass that hospital as we drove on the interstate, but the feeling of that view is still sitting with me, just like grief has done since the moment my mother passed. RELATED: The Day She Dies It’s ironic...

Keep Reading