Sometimes it happens in the morning, when I’m making myself a cup of hot chocolate at the stove. Always unexpected, the fears only creep in when I’m alone. When everything is still and quiet, and my mind is free to get lost in the what if’s.
By nature I’m not a paranoid person. I don’t worry about germs or global warming or earthquakes or the housing market, or any of those other concerns that plague some people. I just don’t. For as long as I can remember, I have been this way.
And then I got pregnant.
And the fears creeped in.
….and I’m suddenly scared of everything.
I’m scared that our baby will be born prematurely, or born with health issues that can’t be fixed. I’m scared that our marriage will change, and that we’ll be so occupied with parenthood that we’ll stop looking at each other the way we do now. I’m scared of weird things like falling down the stairs with a baby in my arms, leaving us both in comas. I’m scared of real things like SIDS and I’m scared of dumb things like gaining weight. I’m scared that I won’t be able to do this as well as I think I can. I’m scared of car accidents and cancer and losing my child or losing Brett. I’m scared for the future. I’m scared that my son or daughter will break their arm at school, or be teased in the cafeteria, or have a learning disability. I’m scared for the day they turn sixteen and get their driver’s license. I’m scared for every first date, every first kiss, and every time they come home with a broken heart. I’m scared that I won’t know what to say or what to do or how to help. I’m scared that nobody will be good enough to be their husband or wife.
I’m scared that I’m going to lose myself. Or pieces of myself. I’m scared that I’ll be so busy changing diapers that I won’t notice the sunrise shining through our bedroom window in the morning. I’m scared that I won’t have time to write or take pictures or do anything for myself. I’m scared that I have thoughts like this already, and that maybe I’m too selfish to have a baby.
For the first time in my whole life, I’m scared. Really, truly, scared.
And yet….every time I place my hands securely on my belly, I am reminded that the fears are worth it.
Because those fears have nothing on the love that I already have for this baby. And that will never change, no matter how scared I get.
