Confessions of a Worrier

I feel lucky.

Lucky that I am alive and well. Lucky to have such an amazing and supportive family. And I am lucky to have grown to be so independent so quicky. I only have me to worry about.

But I have a huge worry. Something which I ponder more often than I’d like to admit. It is a worry which is the main deal breaker for one of the most important decisions of my life.

To have or to not have a child.

Of course, I have always dreamed of having children, to be a mother. I cry in happiness at the thought of creating such a precious thing. A new person who is half of me, a part of me and will be forever.

But being a mother will make me an astronomical worrier.

I read about the horrible things that happen in the world ever day. Terrible things that happen to children, sometimes even by children. The thought of such an innocence, such a preciousness being violated in such horrible ways makes me question whether I am worthy enough to protect a child from these terrors.

You can be sheltered from the rain and not get wet, but you can always hear its repetitive taps above.