Mothering the Fear in Life

I’ve never really led a life of fear. I had a wonder-filled childhood with parents who loved me and, more importantly, whom I adored. Sure we had our sadnesses. Any family does. But, I was gifted with a life full of exploration, dare and future thinking.

Somehow I was imbued with a sense of community history and family lore that would be my personal armor. It was unspoken, but this window to the past was a resource, part of my foundation for times when things got rocky. Points in time when the compass of life couldn’t direct me north – that was time for strength buoyed by a collective memory of achievement.
“Put your big girl pants on!” one family matriarch would say. Yet another would admonish me to embrace a challenge, “What’s the worst that can happen? Could you lose a limb trying a new idea? Well then, stop your caterwauling and get to it!” Lack of confidence was not an option. So I learned to be positive, embrace options and repel anxiety to the best of my ability.
But that all changed when I became a mother. I found myself often paralyzed by fear. What if my baby was bit by a scorpion, taken by a crazy stranger or grew up to despise me? It was a chilling duel that I fought. Such pervasive doubts dominated me for the first time in my life.
Was I a worthy role model? Could I give my child all she needed? Would she have a foundation of strength, humor and grace to lead her past a time when I would not be with her? These thoughts swirled around my head in a dizzy cotton candy cloud that seemed to present more questions than answers.
Then it happened. I began to see a child emerge with indefinable, yet very real qualities harkening back to people long gone from our family. From a certain sideways glance, point of view and even a hearty laugh, she began to take on the fabric of her recent ancestors. This gave me comfort and, in truth, still does.
I’ve reached that sacred point where I know that my child can now wear that mantle of our history. For good or bad, she has a collective of ideas, triumphs, tragedies and humor to guide her. As a mother, what more could I ask? She will find her way through all that comes down the path with the stories that have been often regaled or revealed.
Hopefully my child will be a mother someday. My wish is that her quirky family narrative will land on the shoulders of her own children, bringing her peace and comfort. Most of all, I hope that there are future Mother’s Day celebrations that recount stories involving the obstreperous family women in her life. Those mothers who loved her and helped shape her to lead a life of good, without fear or doubt.
From the Heart …