changed-worry

I've been thinking about this question a lot lately: How has being a parent changed you?

There's the obvious answers. Change in priorities, limited ability to get out without small people hanging off of you and crying for juice boxes, sleep deprivation, relationship changes, friendship changes, etc etc etc. And all that is true. But I think the biggest change for me is the worry.

Everybody worries. I did before I was a parent. Will I have enough money? Will my living accommodations work out? Will my job be stable? What will happen if I need to leave my job? Is my relationship going to make it? Funny how those things seemed big to me then. And now I yearn for the days when those were my worries. I still worry about many of the things on that list, but those are some small potatoes.

And most of my new worries are also still probably small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. But to me they are huge. And some are all consuming.

When I found out I was pregnant the beginning of the "will I be a good mom?" started. And it's never ended. I question constantly if I am doing right by my children. I worry I am scarring them if I lose my cool. I worry I am teaching them bad habits. I worry I don't hug them enough, have the right blanace of help/ independance, or spend enough 1-on-1 time with each child.

I worry about when Alpha goes to kindergarten. Will the other kids like him? Will he find friends? Will he be invited to birthday parties? Will the teachers like him? Will he be able to sit still long enough to do anything? Will he be behind?

When Bravo almost died at 4 months and 2 weeks old my life changed. I was now Allergy Mom. Watching your baby on a table, grey and lifeless, having 15 people try to stabilize his heart, putting breathing tubes in his throat, put IV after IV after IV into him, strapping monitors onto him and yelling at you trying to figure out what is happening to this incredibly small person while the whole time that small person stares at you unable to cry, unable to do anything but stare, that changes a person. Being Bravo's mom has introduced a whole new level of worry to my life. I am terrified of the day he goes to school. When I can't keep him in his allergy-free bubble. I am terrified of others being in contact with his food. I am terrified of other kids and other parents. What if the really friendly child shares a goldfish cracker. Bravo knows to not eat it, but what if the friendly kid then touches Bravos juice straw. What then? Will there be a teacher on the play ground that knows that when he starts throwing up there is only a matter of a minute or two to get that epi pen into him? The worry that holds my gut about my sweet boy is immense.

When I was pregnant with Charlie yet another set of worries was born. Would my baby make it? Would he live past a couple of hours old? And if he did will he always know some where deep inside that his twin is missing? Does he not sleep because he's lonely?

Will my boys get along? Will they look after each other? Will Matthew and I be around to watch our kids grow up? What if something happens to us? Or to one of the kids? What if schizophrenia rears it's ugly head and chooses one of my sweet boys like it did to my brother, 2 cousins (male), an uncle, and a grandfather? What will I do then?

If I let the worry run wild I would not be able to get out of bed in the morning. Some days it's all I can do to keep the worry at bay. And those days I hug my kids a little harder, tell them I love them a little more, and check on them one extra time while they lay sweetly sleeping.

And I know that this worry will never leave. It may shift and change as the boys grow into their own and become young men in charge of their own lives and (hopefully) some allergies are outgrown, but the worry will always be there. When I peed on that stick in January 2007 my life was changed. And even to erase all the worry in the world I would not change it back. Not even for one second.