There is another emotion that runs in a soft, underlying current throughout my day. Fear. All soon-to-be mothers talk about fear. There is fear that something will go wrong with the pregnancy, delivery, next 18+ years. And I have all those fears. But I have a stronger fear that I'm finding hard to articulate. It started with the intervention. My husband's family had an intervention for a family member. It was messy and hard and good in all the ways significant life events are. At the time of the intervention I was about 8 weeks pregnant- hardly anyone knew. And I sat there, my hand around my abdomen, watching this family member lash out at her mother, the woman who loves her child more than anything, who loves her child enough to tell her the truth. As I sat there clutching the space that was growing life inside of me I couldn't help but think about my child, and the inevitable day when he or she will break my heart. I thought of how much I loved this little peanut already and how much more I will love him or her. And I thought of the devastation I would feel if my child ever said those same things to me. I think that's when the fear began.
After that I began to have an unnatural fear about what the limits or depths of my love would be in the face of horrific adversity. I saw an Oprah episode with a woman whose father was a serial killer. And suddenly I thought- what if my kid is a sociopath? What if my child starts torturing animals at the age of 8? What if she kills someone? What if, no matter how much I teach my child to be kind, to regard others with dignity and compassion and love, what if he still becomes selfish and angry and without compassion? And my fear sets in. I don't fear that I won't be able to love him; I fear that I will love him too much. I fear the knowing- knowing that something is wrong with your child. Knowing that they are trapped in a world inside their minds that I can't help them escape from. Loving them so much and yet being horrified by their behavior. What if I can't save them from themselves and can't save myself from my love for them?
I fear the strength of this love because I know, no matter what decisions my future children make, I cannot stop loving them. But I also cannot feel anything but revulsion for the extreme possibility of decisions they could make. I have a sudden empathy for all the heartbroken mothers whose sons and daughters have done something heinous or horrific. In stories of good guys and bad guys, I find myself wondering what I would do if I was that bad guy's mother. I wonder if there is anything that could put a dent in the depth of this love. And I feel the weight of responsibility for the bad guy's victims. I find myself constantly asking myself what would I do if that were my child?? What would I do if this one I am carrying did that? It is a bizarre and persistent fear, an inner conflict that I find my mind returning to again and again. I don't think there is any worry like a mother's worry. Does God worry like this?
