Fear is my unexpected companion. He comes to me in the darkest part of the 
night and in the brightest sunlight. He cannot be controlled, tamed.
Something as minor as a cough, a twitch, unleashes Fear through my very
soul. What if I miss something? What if I'm not there? What if I am
there, but can do nothing? What if I am not in super Mom mode and don't
react as quickly as I should?
As I sit here tonight, waiting for a call from yet another unknown
pediatrician who is taking call, I am numbed by Fear, near paralyzed. I
try, half heartedly, to reassure myself that it's nothing. He's smiling,
even laughing in between the paroxysms of coughing and what appear to me to
be difficulty clearing his airway. His color is good, he's alert. He just
choked on the toothpaste, it's nothing, calm down.....
Of all the parts of being a Mom that were unexpected, this parasite, Fear,
is without a doubt the worst. He seems to feed on my love. I am consumed
at times...
The call, this time a humane physician who recognizes my companion, Fear.
Patient listening, concerned questions, calm reassurance and encouragement,
gentle warnings about what to watch for. Fear recedes for the evening, but
I know he will return.
I hold my Jamie, this child who is so much a part of me. I smell his sweet
smell, part shampoo, part soap, part toothpaste, but mostly the fragrance of
this child whom I love so much. I tease him about his growing tummy and
soft thighs, I trim his nails, I hug him and love him and kiss him. I
wonder how I will hold this child in another two years, when he will be only
a foot or so shorter than me, and I take care to appreciate this moment with
my son, my hero, my love.
Fear is lurking there in the shadows, but he's quiet tonight...
Written 4-29-97
Sue, Mom of Jamie (8, CP, CVI, wicked sense of humor), Tyler (6, NDA, my
challenge), and Will (2, NDA, cuddle-bug), Wife of my best friend J.W.

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