Sleepless nights

I had one of those horrible "something bad is going to happen to my baby" dreams the other night. Madison was about to walk out into traffic in the middle of the highway. Thankfully it was a very short dream, and I woke up before anything actually happened. Of course, I was up for another hour and a half after that.

I think the hardest thing to get used to about being a mother is the fear. Has anyone else noticed that the staggering amount of fear is directly proportional to the staggering amount of love we feel? I admit, I could probably be classified as a worrier anyway, but having a child steps it up quite a few notches. First, I was afraid that I just wasn't qualified to be somebody's mother. What were they thinking, sending me home with something so precious? I had almost no experience with babies. There were a million things I didn't know. But eventually I realized that I could figure out the details as I went. After all, the baby didn't know I wasn't already a professional diaperer. And I was lucky enough to have a husband that was happy to take on the complicated task of bathing that squirmy little girl for the first few months. She broke us in slowly by being a mostly agreeable, healthy baby.

But now she's getting older, and toddling is surely much more dangerous than lying there looking cute. The big bad world is scary enough when it's You against Them. Now it's Them against My Baby. Horrifying! And even though you can keep them out of the big bad world for a while, there are enough scary scenerios in the home to keep a Mom from ever sleeping--or blinking! again. From falling bookcases to choking hazards, from dog bites to house fires, the possibility of tragedy striking is always lurking, always hovering just over my shoulder. In the light of day it's possible to go about life, vigilent, but calm. At night sometimes the possibilities are simply too overwhelming. So I check on the baby and put that hand down and feel the reassuring rise and fall that tells me she is asleep and safe.

I suppose this fear is helpful in keeping us watchful, keeping us from letting down our guard right when danger looms, but that doesn't make it any more enjoyable. Especially at 3 o'clock in the morning. The good news is that most of the fear and worry is just fear and worry, and the bad things we imagine happening to our precious child don't. The bad news is that I've been told it doesn't go away...ever. Well, I guess I can get some reading done in those wee hours, since I'm up anyway.