I get that most books and info centers just want to help.  I get it.  I get that most parents truly do worry their lives away about whether the foods they’re feeding their kids are right, about whether the car seat will protect them in side collision, and whether their speech and mobility coordination is on task or below average.  I get that most information and data is used for two purposes: to comfort or to instill fear.

In my email inbox, I am flooded – on a regular basis – by emails from baby centers, parenting magazine, and mother-centered orgs.  And I noticed that they usually put a question in the very beginning of that email, either the first line of the email or in the subject header.

“IS YOUR TODDLER EATING RIGHT?”

“IS YOUR CHILD SHOWING SIGNS OF FILL-IN-THE-BLANK-WITH-SOMETHING-THAT-IS-INCURABLE?”

“WHY WON’T JOHNNY PLAY WITH OTHER KIDS?”

And here’s my own question:  Have you young parents ever noticed how most “help” books/emails/brochures engage readers by playing on your natural fears as a parent?  In your desire for a “normal” child?  (So to reassure yourself that you are a “normal” parent?”)

Well, I’ve noticed it and it’s starting to get to me.

Being a parent means living in the forest of worry.  I worry.  All the time.  I worry about Isaiah’s future.  I worry that he won’t have friends.  I worry he’ll develop some kind of mental or learning disability.  I worry he’ll accidentally ingest a peanut and not have anyone around to help him or know what to do.

I’m his mother, of course I worry.

But there’s a line between worry and fear.  And I’m giving up the “fear” part.  I decided this yesterday when Isaiah laughed for about an hour straight.  Since the weather has decided that spring is allowed in Cleveland, Isaiah has spent much of his time outdoors, in the grass, absorbing sun and Vitamin D — and the smallest little things (squirrels, feathers, DOGGIES!, blowing leaves, bark, whistling grass, and peaceful neighbors) make his giddy with giggling.

I looked at him and thought, “I think I’m doing alright if he’s this joyful.”

Isaiah is enjoying life, every little inch of it.  And I decided to be the kind of mother that enjoyed it right along with him.  One of the first steps is knowing that there is no “normal” parent and no “normal” child.  We hope and pray that we, Nick and I, continue to find and develop ourselves as adults and that Isaiah does the same at each stage of his life.  The worry is inevitable, but the fear is not.

Letting go of the fear never felt so nice.