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Becoming a mom is something many people dream about, but when you live with a chronic illness, that dream comes with its own set of unique fears that most don’t talk about. It’s not just the usual nerves about sleepless nights or whether you’ll be a good parent. It’s deeper, more complicated, and, to be honest, a little isolating.
As I think about my pregnancy and my looming due date, my mind doesn’t just wander to baby names or nursery colors or baby names. It jumps to doctor appointments, flare-ups, fatigue, and the “what ifs” that keep me up at night. I know I’m not alone in these thoughts, but it can feel that way sometimes. So today, I’m opening up about my fears surrounding motherhood and the role my illness will play in it.
#1: Will My Body Handle Pregnancy and Postpartum?
Pregnancy is a demanding experience for anyone, but when your body is already managing pain, fatigue, or unpredictable symptoms, it can feel terrifying. In the first few weeks, I worried about how I would manage without my medication and whether I might suffer from postpartum depression (PPD).
How quickly will my body heal? Will I be able to enjoy the newborn phase? These are the kinds of questions that swirl through my mind late at night.
I know every chronic illness journey is different, but the fear of the unknown is real.
#2: Not Being “Enough” as a Parent
As someone who already struggles to acknowledge my limitations, I can only imagine what the toddler years will bring. All the energy, playing, and constant movement—I already know I won’t be able to keep up. I don’t want to be the “lame” parent who can only play for ten minutes before needing a break. Knowing that I’ll have to say “no” simply because my body won’t cooperate is frustrating.
What if my child feels like they’re missing out on a normal childhood? What if they come to resent having a parent who is chronically ill? I remind myself that love, presence, and creativity matter more than constant activity, but the fear still lingers.
#3: Equal Parenting
My partner is the closest thing to an angel you can get. He fell in love with me before I became sick and has stuck by me through doctor appointments, job loss, and both physical and mental decline. He’s picked me up every day and reminded me that I’m loved and enough.
That said, there’s always a sense of guilt when I can’t do the dishes or fold the laundry and he has to pick up my slack.
Now, let’s add postpartum recovery, parenting, and learning how to care for a tiny human (who seems determined to find new ways to terrify you daily). How do I make sure I’m pulling my own weight? What if I can’t keep up with responsibilities and Wyatt begins to resent me?
These are the questions that echo in my mind when I’m trying to fall asleep.
#4: Flare-Ups and the Unpredictable
One of the hardest parts of chronic illness is its unpredictability. I can plan the perfect day, and a flare can derail it in seconds. Thinking about managing that while caring for a baby is overwhelming.
Who will step in if I physically can’t get out of bed one morning? How do I make sure my child’s needs are met when my own are already so intense? These questions force me to think through support systems and backup plans in ways healthy parents might never have to.
Finding Strength in the Fear
Despite these fears, I know that people with chronic illnesses make incredible parents every single day. We adapt. We get creative. We love fiercely. And we will do anything for the people we love.
For me, part of coping has been allowing myself to be honest about these fears instead of pushing them aside. I talk with Wyatt about realistic expectations, what he can do to support me, and what I can do to support him. I find inspiration in other chronically ill parents who share their stories, and I work to build a support system that doesn’t rely solely on me being “superhuman.”
Motherhood, like chronic illness, is unpredictable. But it’s also filled with resilience, love, and the ability to redefine what being a “good mom” looks like. If you’ve ever had these same worries, please know you’re not alone. These fears don’t make you weak; they make you thoughtful, intentional, and real.
Whether you’re already a parent or just thinking about it, your journey matters. You’re allowed to hold both the fear and the hope at the same time. That’s what makes this path so beautifully human.
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