Why is Being Me So Scary?

Story about my fears with raising my children.


Why is being me so scary?

Thirteen years ago I was in the bathroom at my office waiting for the results. The news that may in fact change me for the rest of my life.  Any minute.. waiting.. waiting.. The anticipation was killing me! A good friend and colleague was waiting in the powder room as moral support.  Anything? What color is it? Nothing yet, another minute or.. Oh! Oh Gosh, it's pink, it's VERY pink! I lunged at her with the most excitement and fear I have ever felt in my body. How was I going to be a mom? Who am I to raise anyone? I can barely manage myself!

My upbringing was turbulent at best.  My mother was later in life diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. She had many addiction issues and "man" problems. I can relate my early years around the man my mother was dating. Each one brought in a season of change and instability for me.  My mom based her value, her worth, her importance around the men she dated.  Seldom was her focus on me. These are my perceptions anyways. I was young, and now that I am a mother I have gentler eyes for which to gaze upon my past.

I never wanted children, not because I dislike children, quite the contrary. I think they are amazing beings that are sent to us for a grand calling. There is nothing we do on this planet more important than parenting. I knew this, and avoided it at all costs. I had mountains of wounds inside of me that hadn't been explored. I wasn't nor would I quite possibly ever be ready to be a mother.

As I birthed and am now raising three beautiful souls, I can say with certainty that my inner knowing was spot on thirteen years ago. The day our eldest son was born, I was met again with the overwhelming fear and joy that I felt upon hearing I was pregnant. My heart began to beat outside of my chest. Everyday it walks around independently of me.

I am scared to death of all of the what if's. What if I am like my mother?  What if they don't really feel my love?  What if I am not guiding them well?  What if they see that I am still a shell?  What if they find me to be a fraud at some point?  What if? What if? What if?

BUT....

What if they know, that I am trying to figure me out? What if they know that I am the best version of myself now? What if they know how I would do anything for them and because of this they have a level of certainty, I can only hope to find within myself? What if I am not screwing this all up?

What would life look like for me and my family, if I could just stop being afraid? Afraid to fail.  Afraid to fall.  I hold an immense amount of hope in my heart. It's one of the traits I was born with. Its' my beacon in this life. To always have hope.  It's time that I dig into the hopefulness and trust this process. Trust that my children are here because we have this journey together, with all of the foibles.

Have hope and faith that nothing is wrong. That it's my deepest expression of love hiding behind this wall of fear. Because, once the love is present I am unstoppable. And so, with this breath, and then the next I keep chiseling away at the worry. Because right here, right now, this moment, I am doing everything well.