I used to worry a lot. I worried that my girls were going to die in their sleep. I worried they'd be kidnapped. I worried that I might lose my temper. I worried that I wasn't good enough to be a mom. I felt guilty and worried that I wasn't enjoying being a mother like I should be. I felt like I was missing out on something.

Years later I realized that the kind of parent I am can be defined, but it wasn’t in the way I originally thought. What I was experiencing was a problem in thinking.

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