vulnerable

(an old picture, but one of the very few of Ethan and I together - and not a very good one of either of us but what can you do?)

Something that has been on my mind lately is how vulnerable I feel as a mum. I don't know if this is a commom feeling for new parents to get used to - but my vulnerability seems to be pretty daunting when I think about it too much - it has even invaded my dreams and I've been having nightmares.

I'm not afraid of much in this world. And things that worry me or fill me with apprehension don't make me feel out of control. In fact, they'll spurn me to act to ensure that the situation or problem is handled (or avoided). Such as a job interview; personal health, financial matters, relationships, etc. Nothing can't be managed. I'm a planner - give me a situation and I'll plan my course of action to ensure that the end result will be what works out best for me and my family. I am not always right, or successful, but I always feel in control.

Enter baby - vulnerable little bird. Baby who has eaten up my heart, life and future in one split second. I am powerless. I am not invincible. I am vulnerable.

I am so afraid of something happening to Ethan, I don't know if my level of fear is normal or if I'm getting a bit psychotic. I worry about an accident happening to him - with really horrific results. I worry that I'll wake up one morning and he'll no longer be breathing. I worry that he'll be gone - swiped out of my arms, and I'll have to try to find a way to continue living for the sake of my husband and parents because that is the scariest thing in the world to me - life without my son.

I know I'm sounding morbid and a bit overly dramatic, but I'm being perfectly honest and I'm troubled that these thoughts spend so much time and space in my thinking lately.

I had a dream last night that a woman at work (who I've always been suspicious as being a little batty) had snatched Ethan while he played on the lawn in front of some building (I guess there was an office summer function going on) and climbed up a water tower with him in her arms (somehow - not sure how that's really possible, but it was a dream and all). I was screaming and panicking - the feelings very very real. Hours after waking, I thankfully don't remember the rest of the dream...not even if my son had survived the ordeal or not. But it was a terrible nightmare and I woke up pretty upset. Two nights previously, I had had another nightmare about someone trying to kill ME (not a rare dream for me, unfortunately) - so I think my fears, in combination with short sleep cycles, are taking a toll.

I have no answers for this little entry - just the burden on my mind. I'm thankful I have a child to worry helplessly about. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my little guy. I just wish that I didn't feel so fearful about his safety. I hate feeling vulnerable, not emotionally strong. They didn't tell me about this in the baby books. Or maybe I'm the only one?

I try to keep things in perspective - I can, after all, separate reality from fiction. In fact my tubby boy is sitting in my lap as I type this last paragraph; bottom freshly cleaned, lunched and smelling sweetly of last night's bath. I know I'm a great mum, and am very protective and careful. I don't think the stars are aligned in a way that only doom shall follow me. Ethan's thriving big time and smiles so much you'd think that those months of colic were just my imagination. He's wonderful. He's also my biggest dream come true - and feels too good to be true - which I guess is why I often wonder when I'll wake up and he'll be gone. I need to relax, I think, and feel deserving of this amazing being, this amazing role. He's here - larger than life, and I doubt very much he's willing to wait for me to get over myself so that we can enjoy another day together.