I promise I'm happy and excited to be a mom. I'm just having a hard time letting myself be fully happy because what if I do something wrong? What if something happens? I can’t let myself fully feel anything in fear of losing whatever it may be. Maybe it’ll be easier if I “prepare” for the worst?

I feel an overwhelming flow of guilt. Maybe because I’m still pondering suicide. Maybe because sometimes I’m wishing I’d never gotten pregnant. Maybe because I want you to stay so badly that I’m terrified of losing you. Maybe not existing would spare me the pain of your gut wrenching heartbreak. Your thoughts of suicide. Your dangerous mind controlling you. I don’t want you to ever have to go through that. I know it can’t be prevented. Mental illnesses are real. They’re scary. They’re unpredictable. I now know what my parents must have thought when they suspected my mental illness. That same rush of fear that I’m already feeling. Imagine being my mom, knowing I’d rather die than suffer through my depression and BPD. She probably felt like a failure. That it was something she did when I was little to make me want to do that. You’re not even here yet and I’m already anticipating this same conversation with you. I don’t know if mental illness is actually genetic, but that’s the one thing I’m terrified of passing on to you. Even more than you having a major heart defect. How pathetic is that. Does that make me selfish? Or does that make me protective? A daily debate. I pray all day that you keep growing and that I will be able to hold you and love you. I don’t want you to not be here. I desperately want you to survive. You’ve already saved me so many times. Just knowing I need to do whatever I can to keep you safe. Little Baby, I love you more than anything. I need you to be strong for me.