To Aiden, On the Night Before You Turn Five

Dear Aiden,

Tomorrow you will be FIVE years old! Five years ago tonight I was praying that everything would go fine the next day and we would have another healthy baby boy. It didn't go exactly as we planned, but the love and joy you have brought into our lives made the journey well worth it.

You are our caboose...Mommy's baby, Daddy's buddy, forever chasing after your sister and brother. You are my last baby to turn five, and it is so bittersweet. Five is a Big Boy, as you informed me the other day. It must be, since you start kindergarten the day after your birthday. You are so smart it blows me away. You are headstrong, sweet, silly, and loving. You love to tell stories (something you inherited from both Daddy and me, but I blame the long windedness on Daddy ;) ). Your laugh is contagious. Your smile warms everyone's heart. Nobody who meets you ever walks away without a new little friend. You love fiercely. You laugh with your whole body. You give the tightest hugs. Five is going to be an amazing year for you.

Tonight, you let me sing you "Hush Little Baby" but you told me it was the last time because "tomorrow is my birthday and I will be five." Apparently that means Mommy doesn't sing to you anymore. But you have to fall asleep sometime, and Mommy might sing to you then.

I love you so much. You're my little shadow, my best little dude. You think I am the best thing in the world and I never want that to change (even though I know it will some day). I know you are very excited to turn five; you have been counting down the days. I hope five is everything you hope it will be.

All my love,

Mommy

Anxiety and Depression and Motherhood

I am a perfectionist. I make lists. I like things to be neat and tidy and in their designated places. I also have a husband and three kids. Those three kids did not inherit one iota of my perfectionism and organization. Not one. Socks end up on the floor. My feet encounter Legos way too often. My husband found a milk cup in the basement yesterday; drinks are not allowed in the basement.

I also have anxiety and depression. Mostly controlled, this summer seemed to be a major trigger for me. Between my therapist cancelling appointments, some financial issues, the kids being home together all day (aside from some day camps), my husband working more, a lot of days of rain, and me finishing up my MA degree, I feel like I have been short fused, tired, frustrated, and longing for a cozy blanket and a good book. And silence. What I wouldn't give for silence in the middle of the day.

But I'm also anxious because I love my kids and I worry about them. My oldest had a hard time during the last school year and isn't looking forward to returning to school for 4th grade. My middle child has had an ADD med dosage change. And my baby is about to go into kindergarten. KINDGERGARTEN. The day after he turns five. Didn't I just have him the other day??

I also completed my MA degree. Every day I feel like I am forgetting to do something. I don't feel like I have extra time because I don't have homework and studying and writing to do. I feel like I should still be doing those things. I don't know where I will be working. On the advice of my therapist, I am taking a few months to deal with the end of school and my baby being in kindergarten. Instead I am organizing my house, taking my kids to camp and the library, running errands, cooking meals, and doing all of the other mothering things that I do every day.

I worry. I keep myself up at night thinking about all of the pieces of my life. Are my kids happy? Is my husband happy? Was I snippy today? Do they know how much I love them? How do I make them understand that I love them, even through the anxiety and depression? Do I show them enough? All of these thoughts, and more, cycle through my head continuously.

And, at my worst, here is my deepest secret: I worry they would all be better off without me. I don't fantasize about ways to kill myself or anything like that (take a deep breath, gentle reader). But I do worry that my anxiety and depression are making me a bad mom and negatively affecting my babies. I worry that they might be better off with no mom rather than a mom who has so many issues.

I lost my mom when I was eighteen, though, and I know how that feels. My best friend lost her mom at six, just one year older than my youngest. I can't do that to my kids. I can't leave them without a mom. But mental illness is evil. Little evil thoughts pervade and I have to fight them off every day. I have to remind myself that I can do this, that I am doing my best, that my kids need ME, and take it one day at a time. Sometimes I take it one hour or one minute at a time.

My best friend told me something that I have since reminded myself of several times a day: my best is good enough. And so is yours.