Before I had kids, I worried. But not much. My philosophy was that worry doesn't solve anything, it only makes things worse. It is what it is. Let's deal with the reality of the situation before us as opposed to creating scenarios that exacerbate unnecessary angst. I had boiled life down to mathematics. All problems were solvable as long as you understood your variables as well as understanding what level of control existed. Because logic was in the driver's seat, emotion could be held in abeyance or rationalized away. iLarge or small, this was my approach to everthing.
Then I had kids. And I was almost immediately immobilized by the foreign and dampening feeling of perpetual worry. Is the baby getting enough milk? What is that noise that she just made? What color is her poop? Why didn't she poop today? Why did she poop 5 times today? Why is she working so hard at trying to poop? Why isn't she mimicking me? Why isn't she rolling over/sitting, standing or pulling up/walking/babbling/pointing/waving/talking yet? Then of course it's worry that they are going to get hurt - physically, emotionally, socially. And I was reminded by my parents that the worry never, ever goes away. Yay! Something to look forward to - a lifetime of ceaseless concern and toil!
So, how to manage this new and terrifying, unending emotion? I had to convince myself to get back to basics. Back to the sheer mathematics of life and apply that to dealing with these three little kids that I love so much. It is hard. But, thankfully my husband helps me sort out the facts so that we can begin to identify resources to solve the problem. But some things are easier than others to manage.
But the concession I have to make is that it is immeasurably harder to maintain such a forensic view of the world
when it is your child (biological or bonus) - because your objectivity is so clouded by this fierce need to protect. (who knew???) So nagging worry persists - but I'm no longer immobilized.
