I’ll never forget the first time being a mom was scary. And no, it wasn’t the second I saw the positive pregnancy test (although, let’s be real, that was scary too).
I’m not talking about those superficial worries like a minor bump on the head or preschool choices, or even finding a marker cap without the marker attached. I know those are fleeting, manageable* worries in the scheme of things.
*Unless of course that forementioned lost marker makes its way into a certain toddler’s hands and onto the couch….
I’m talking about those things that happen that I can’t control. The things that my children will encounter whether I like it or not.
The first time it really hit me that motherhood is scary was on a playground.
After a morning cooped up in the house while I answered a few emails and got dinner in the crockpot, my almost-two-year-old was so excited to head to the park. He had just recently mastered climbing all the way to the top of the jungle gym and sliding down the tallest slide all by himself.
As soon as the stroller hit the edge of the park, he ran to the first person that was his size, waved, put on his biggest smile, and said “You play?”
The other kid simply responded, “No,” and ran away. My toddler didn’t miss a beat. A simple shrug and he was on his way to that big slide. It didn’t phase anyone… except for me.
I felt this pang of rejection that hurt a little, and frankly, was scary.
For the first time, I truly understood that my little guy won’t be in my arms forever. I won’t be able to protect him, to control his environment, to remove the obstacles in his way.
I spent the next 10 minutes envisioning the situations he’ll inevitably encounter. I unleashed thoughts of the unknown and played that dangerous possibilities game.
My thoughts catapulted to the news and my social media feeds, and I remembered he is and will be a part of a very hurting, imperfect world. He will fail. He will be rejected. His life will be messy. He will hurt.
And then, just when I was close to tears for absolutely no reason other than my imagination, I saw him way up, on top of that slide, and remembered these things won’t happen tomorrow.
They’ll happen with time.
Just like he learned how to climb to the very top of that tall slide, he’ll learn how to take on life. And I’ll be there to help him, to teach him, to guide him the whole way in the best way I know how.
