When my oldest was born, I had these intense episodes of anxiety. I was worried to be alone with him and quite frankly didn't even want him. I thought of all the ways I could give him up or give him away but would be quickly brought back to reality with his cries and coos for attention.
Don't get me wrong, I loved him and wanted him to be healthy and happy and respected -- and that’s where my doubt stepped in. Doubt that I could even be a great mother to him. All these preconceived notions of what made up a great mother overwhelmed me. I didn't think I had it in me, the pressure to be perfect was astronomical and exhausting. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, therefore I didn't produce enough milk so breastfeeding was a complete nightmare. And while all this was happening, I didn't even see that my husband was also stressed about raising a child and running his new startup. And to top it off, I still had my own agency with clients and employees to manage. Like f*ck.