Seriously people… enter my most previous contest.
When I was born almost 31 years ago I came at the end of my mother’s fertile years. I was the last of my parent’s kids to be born and came almost ten years after my next oldest brother. I don’t know what it was about this that was particularly heart wrenching for my mother… but she tells me now that back then she used to cry long and hard as I slept in her arms, swaddled in my blankie.
She cried because she was afraid. She was afraid she was going to “lose” me.
My mom was like a lot of parents. A lot of parents who give two flips about their children are going to worry about them… and worry about possibly “losing” them. Most are able to push the thought out of their mind as if they’re shooing away a pesky fly. Some, like myself, have issues with these intrusive thoughts to an OCD level. As much as I’d like to shoo away the thought, it starts to fester and depress me.
“How would I ever live?” I begin to ask myself. I imagine life devoid from the one thing that has proved to bring me so much joy beyond which I’ve ever though capable.
As quickly as I ask the question above… I ask myself this question shortly thereafter: “Why the hell am I even thinking this?!”
The only answer I can come up with is fear.
Fear struck me hard last night. I went into her bedroom under a blanket of darkness with only my cell phone light to provide me with guidance. As it turned out, DLG wasn’t fully asleep and the light emanating from my cell phone was just enough to stir her awake. After quickly retreating from her bedroom in hopes she’d go back to sleep… I quickly returned in response to her, “My Daddddyyyyyy” cries. I resorted to cuddling with her and singing her favorite lullaby.
As I stood there, rubbing her back and singing to her… she clutched me as only a daughter clutches her daddy.
In that dark room.. I started to become afraid.
Tears began to flow freely.
“What would I ever do… if I didn’t have this anymore?” I thought.
I then clutched her as only a daddy clutches his young daughter.
It’s been a while since I’ve been struck like that. Those types of feelings hit me quite a bit more when DLG was a more fragile, strange, uncoordinated newborn. Now, while it’s still as unwanted as it was before, it’s almost harder because I thought I’d kicked the fear in the ass.
Fear has a way of making you stronger though. As history repeated itself through my first few bouts with this fear… I began to realize that what didn’t kill me only made me stronger.
I know that this too will pass, the fear will dissolve and be replaced with an even more rock-solid love.
But to get there it’s painful sometimes.
Does anyone else deal with crippling fears regarding their kids?