A Tall Bucket of Crazy

I think it's time to introduce you to the neurotic side of me. Or what my husband so lovingly calls my "bucket of crazy." I don't often go into all sides of my emotional life here (does anyone?), but something has shifted in me since being a mom. And writing has always been cathartic for me. And maybe someone out there will tell me they feel the same way and I won't feel so darned crazy.

I have found myself worrying about something bad happening to me, my babies, or my family a lot lately. I am the happiest I have ever been. I finally feel like everything is in balance in my life. Like all the work I put into college, graduate school, my career and, finally and most importantly, my family has paid off. This is where I always wanted to be. And now that I'm here, I am terrified that something is going to take this peace away from me.

This most likely comes from hearing a lot of sad stories lately. Sweet Ruby Jane, a 7 month old baby girl, passed away due to a bad liver. They found out she was sick when she was about 5 months old and couldn't find a suitable donor in time. I now follow her mommy's blog and literally ache with grief for her. A 3 month old baby boy, Gabriel, was killed by a drunk driver who crossed a barrier and smashed into the car he was in. An online friend of mine rushed into the wreckage to try and save him. But he was already gone. Too soon. And, just today, another blogger posted about a mommy who lost her 4 month old baby girl, Maddie, to SIDS earlier this year. All of these stories hurt me to the core. Maybe it's because my babies are close to these ages, I don't know. My absolute need to protect them is so intense that the thought of anything happening to them sends me into a panic. And if something happened to me...well, no baby should have to live without his/her momma. And I don't want that for them. I know these stories are rare. I know I should just enjoy this bliss that is mommyhood. And I usually do. But, periodically, throughout the day, I look at them and tears spring to my eyes as I remember those 3 babies and think about how I would survive such a loss. I couldn't. I wouldn't.

I love Jackson and Addison so very much. I love my husband. I just love my family. Is it weird that I have a hard time believing that this place of happiness can exist indefinitely? Maybe because I've never been in this place before? No matter the reason, I gotta work on this. Believe me, I don't let this "crazy" dominate my life. It's just like this dull worrying in the back of my mind. And I don't want it there. But maybe this is what people mean when they say you will always worry about your children?

So, there you go, your journey into my conflicted emotional world:). I always appreciate your support, so thank you for allowing me this safe place to write this out.