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This thought still plays on repeat at times and everytime it comes back I feel sick to my stomach and so ashamed that my mind would ever have such a thought. I was worried that I would find my baby had died during her sleep. The lack of sleep made the anxiety worst. So I got help, I talked, I developed coping strategies. It makes me feel so useless no matter how much I do. All I could do was cry …day in day out. The thoughts oh being a worthless mother fled my mind every second of the day. I finally decided to get help, it was a long journey of switching meds and probably will be but every day gets just a lil bit better.

I would place my son in a laundry basket when doing laundry. Many times I almost cried because of how intense and overwhelming the thoughts of putting him in the dryer were. In reality, it led to a mental breakdown while I was watching my 18 month old on my own. It left me with almost 50 stitches from self harm, a two week hospitalization, and a major loss of trust with my husband. I was so worried about losing my family that I lost myself instead.

Breastfeeding kept me alive during my lowest moments, but it also stopped me from getting more intensive help. When my first child was born we owned a gun. My husband asked if I could bring it to him so he could clean it. What if I shoot myself? One squeeze changes it all. One squeeze ruins it all.

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I lose my life. I never told him the real reason. Please God, watch over him. Why would I even want another baby? Why would she ever say that to me, I loved my child more than anyone ever loved another. The crying, my feelings of inadequacy in being a first time mom, all of it. The worst part is that when I imagined these things happening, my first thought was about whether my husband would ever forgive me, not about how terrible it would be to lose our daughter.

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I had a traumatic birth and was rushed into surgery straight away. When being taken to surgery I was thinking to myself that I was definitely going to die and how sad people will think it is that I never got to see or hold my baby. I worry about everything that most people worry about, but one day from exhaustion I had a complete breakdown that came out of nowhere.

I was scared about my baby waking up and that I would have to pick him up, convinced that I would drop him taking him downstairs, scared to even change his nappy.

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I then had awful intrusive thoughts about when if I hurt him and not even realised. That alone made me feel so much better. It took me around 2 months to get over it. I was very scared to get help as I thought my baby would get taken away from me.

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I have this fear that while my baby is playing on the floor I will step on her by accident. Or I will drop her over the banister at the top of our staircase so I hold her extra tight around that corner. I want to cry all the time. I hate sex. I hate when my husband makes me feel like I made the wrong choice about anything having to do with our baby. My birth mother was unstable and took anger out on the kids, they never gave my husband a chance, and my Dad mentioned in passing that we shook our baby to burp him.

I check over my shoulder for anyone paying attention to us in the grocery store. I thought I was unfit to be a mother and that by giving birth I ruined three lives; that of our daughter, my boyfriend and my own. We are all very happy now! I am terrified on the highway since my son was born. The fear developed overtime and I can no longer drive on the highway, let alone handle being a passenger.

Anytime I know I will be going on the highway I am in panic-mode all day. My husband does not understand the fear at all and says I make him anxious when he is driving. I constantly have images of me hurting my baby. The images are so vivid and terrifying that sometimes I have to put my baby down and go to another room to cry, whenever this happens I feel that my whole body is on fire and I itch everywhere I end up turning red.

I had thoughts of running away. Suicidal thoughts. Driving off a cliff.

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These thoughts were repetitive. My stomach felt like it was in knots. I wanted to die. I had rage.

source site I hated the world. I hated my husband. Everything seemed like it was a conspiracy. And that longing mixed with guilt at not immediately loving motherhood was a horrible cocktail of anxiety and unhappiness. Then I was super anxious about keeping him on a schedule. I obsessed over doing everything at a particular time every day. It was almost like my anxiety found a home in the compulsion of establishing a daily routine. As the routine became more entrenched in my life, the monotony of the routine started to break me down bit by bit. We need to speak the secret thoughts we all hide.

We are amazing, all moms are absolutely amazing. After my son was born, I was afraid of him. Like sometimes I would look at him in the dark in the middle of the night and he would look back at me and I was positive that he was evil. It terrified me and I never told anyone about it.

I resent my baby for being so miserable and I fear my resentment will somehow manifest a terrible tragedy or that he will die or become disabled and it will be my fault. I fear he will be a challenging child too and it makes me want to just leave him. I want to leave them every day. With my first child, I was convinced that there would be a fire in the house while I was having sex, and that the baby would die in the fire.

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With my second, I was even more of a mess. I was convinced I was going to hurt him, to stab him to death or drop him on a hard floor. I put all my energy into maintaining a facade of happiness and normality while inside I was going crazy. Horrible times. I held my five day old baby girl over the bed and wondered what would happen if I just dropped her. I regretted getting pregnant and wanted to give her away. Sometimes I think about running away.

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Just get in the car and never come back. I had thoughts about getting up in the middle of the night and just driving away and disappearing. I just wanted to be alone. When I was young my father took me to see an old Navy aircraft carrier that had been turned into a museum. I would love to share this experience with my own son, but all I can think of is him falling from the ship into the gator infested waters below.

I have felt him go limp in my arms. I hear all the time how my thoughts are unfounded. My husband. My family. The family next to us in the NICU with their two tiny boys. Going home with one boy. One, when there should have been two. My eyes are open. Sometimes I just want to yell! This illusion of the immortality of the innocent is all in YOUR head.

I work full time and had no help with her.

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I started seeing visions of her being smothered with a pillow like it was a movie playing on repeat every night.