01/31/2026
Control in motherhood isn’t always a trait.
For me, control followed a trauma I couldn’t identify until years later. Somewhere along the way, my nervous system formed a belief that if I didn’t do everything right, if I didn’t control my environment and the people around me, I wouldn’t be able to keep my baby safe.
So I started controlling all that I could.
Because inside, I felt anything but in control.
I couldn’t steady the visceral discomfort that surged through my body any time she cried.
I couldn’t calm the anxiety that spiked when she was out of my sight, even when my rational mind knew she was perfectly safe.
I couldn’t regulate the intensity of my own reactions — most of them reactions, not responses — to other people’s actions.
So I managed what I could.
The environment.
The timing.
The way things were done.
The people around me.
Control became a means of regulation.
Homeopathy supported me in finding a calm I didn’t yet have access to.
It wasn’t a quick fix.
It was one baby step at a time.