Truth is... It's scary to be a parent of a living child. I remember when D was a newborn. I was worried about everything. Scared something may happen. I trusted no one. He was the most precious thing in my life at the time and I had to protect it with my life. I felt this way because I knew how easily and how all of a sudden it could all be taken away. As he got older and hit milestones, I hit new milestones with worries. He started solids I worried about choking. He started walking I worried about him falling. He got old enough to go to school and I was worried sick about the people I was leaving him with not watching him carefully enough. Or worse, worried they may hurt him. The anxiety I went through would make me ill.
As time passed it got better. I had my second rainbow and the worries were still there but not as bad. I figured it was all in my head and would go away as I went through being a parent in the full sense and realize that the kids will be just fine despite what may come. (Well ultimately that's what we hope but we all know nothing is certain... See, that's the Blm in me)
But there comes times, like tonight, where I get back to the very worried state. Tonight D is very ill. He has symptoms that make me worry. I think worse case scenario. He has XYZ that could be fatal. Even if he does have that there is only a 10% chance he will die from it, in my mind I'm already planning the funeral. I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I want to never live through planning another funeral for my child. It will be the end of me. But the scary thoughts pop in my head because I've lived through it before. It HAS happened. No one is immune. It scares the crap out of me.
I am watching D close through the night tonight and if his fever spikes again, to the ER we go. Either way, a trip to the urgent care is in order in the morning. But I wish I had normal thoughts and worries. I can't. I just can't. I can't relax and I won't believe you when you tell me he will be fine. I guess I'm traumatized to an extent. I can't help it. It's part of who I am and how I parent. I wish there was an off switch.
This is one aspect of being a BLM that my dear Marlon has no clue about. He doesn't get it. And hopefully never will.