In my early years, my fears revolved around murderers, airplane disasters, and car collisions. I often concocted elaborate scenarios in my mind, convinced that I had experienced some extraordinary demise in a past life. I admired individuals—like my partner, Jake—who could effortlessly drift into peaceful slumber. How could they remain unfazed by the possibility of a major earthquake devastating the country? Didn’t they worry about the ongoing degradation of our environment caused by chlorofluorocarbons? The Cold War seemed too precarious to remain dormant forever, and yet, they appeared blissfully ignorant of the lurking dangers.
After the birth of my second child, I began therapy to address my guilt over his health issues following a stroke. It was during this process that I realized the depth of my anxiety. This explained why I gripped the steering wheel tightly during our drives to the cabin, always anticipating a herd of deer would unexpectedly wander into our path, leading to a horrific accident involving my family.
My anxiety manifested in various ways throughout my childhood. For example, my father once imposed a peculiar punishment on me: I wasn’t allowed to do my homework until I had thoroughly cleaned the bathroom. He remarked, “You were so peculiar that I couldn’t think of any better punishment. What kind of kid would rather clean a bathroom with a toothbrush just to finish her homework?”
That child was me. I distinctly recall believing that if I didn’t complete my chemistry assignment immediately, the Earth might cease its rotation. My therapist would likely point to this as yet another indication of my anxiety and paranoia, advising me to relax.
As I became a parent, my fears shifted from concerns about my own well-being to the safety of my children. I fretted over potential accidents: what if I inadvertently dropped my child from the changing table? What if he choked on too many Cheerios? What if he learned to climb out of his crib, open the bathroom door, and drown while I slept?
While I recognized these thoughts as irrational, they haunted me nightly, played out in elaborate detail that could rival a daytime drama.
Now that my eldest son is six and an exuberant extrovert, my concerns have transformed into something even more troubling: the loss of his innocence. Nothing weighs heavier on a parent’s heart than the fear of their child confronting the harsh realities of the world, experiencing disappointment for the first time, or facing cruelty from peers or adults.
I became acutely aware of the depth of these fears during a camping trip a few years ago. My little boy, who has clearly grown up, ventured off to play with an older child at the campground. Although I could see him and paced nearby like a restless spirit, my mind spiraled into dark daydreams. I feared not for his physical safety, but rather for the intangible scars that could affect his joyous spirit—mockery, bullying, or rejection that could harden his once open heart over time.
When I was pregnant with my first child, a colleague asked me if I was anxious about becoming a parent. I confidently replied, “No. All we can do is our best as parents and hope for the best.” However, if asked the same question today, my response would be different: “Worried about being a parent? No. It’s the childhood part that terrifies me because I can’t control it. No matter how hard I try, I can’t prevent them from growing up.”
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Summary
Parenthood brings a unique set of fears, evolving from personal safety to the well-being of children. The anxiety of protecting a child’s innocence from the harsh realities of life can be overwhelming. As children grow, parents grapple with the realization that they cannot shield them from disappointment or heartache. The transition from worrying about personal dangers to the emotional and psychological challenges faced by children is a profound aspect of parenting.
Keyphrase: parenting fears
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