By: Lisa Thompson
Updated: Dec. 2, 2020
Originally Published: Nov. 30, 2014
Confronted by loss at a young age, I became all too familiar with the harsh realities of life. My father passed away when I was just four, followed closely by the death of my grandfather. Those late-night phone calls were harbingers of illness, tragedy, or death. As a result, I often find myself waiting for the inevitable calamity, or as some may say, the proverbial shoe to drop. Even though I now enjoy a loving marriage, delightful children, a cozy new home, and a supportive community, there’s an unsettling fragility to it all.
In a split second, our world could be shattered. I envision car wrecks, bus collisions, plane disasters, or even the simplest misstep that could lead to injury. I worry about storms causing trees to crash into our home. I think of random acts of violence that could disrupt our lives at any moment.
It’s as if I’m haunted by vivid memories of tragedies reported on the news, even though they didn’t directly affect me. Gruesome images flash through my mind: a bus with its top sheared off, a woman driving the wrong way and fatally colliding with innocent children, and horrific accidents that leave families shattered. I am constantly bombarded with the thought of babies left in hot cars and toddlers tragically run over in driveways.
Contrary to what one might expect, I consider myself to be a relatively relaxed mom. Yet, this irrational anxiety feels like a stark contradiction to my otherwise easygoing nature. I often replay these tragic stories in my mind, conjuring even darker scenarios: decapitations, amputations, and other horrifying injuries. These thoughts linger, tainting my daily life, haunting me every single day.
Before anyone suggests a visit to a therapist, I want to clarify: these images do not paralyze me or prevent me from functioning. They just pop into my head unexpectedly, and I acknowledge them before moving on. I have little time to dwell on such thoughts.
I keep a mental catalog of the many times misfortune has struck those around me. From serious illnesses to tragic accidents, many friends face unimaginable challenges with their children. My heart aches for them, yet there’s also a sense of relief that their struggles haven’t befallen my family. It’s not that I take pleasure in their pain; rather, I entertain a superstitious belief that if such tragedies have happened to others, they cannot happen to me—lightning can’t strike the same place twice, right?
Yet, my worries often creep in at the worst moments. When I’m exhausted and get into the car, visions of terrible accidents invade my mind. If my daughters have a fever, I find myself praying fervently that it doesn’t escalate, fearing a hospital visit could expose them to even worse illnesses. Each time my husband takes our son out for a bike ride, I can’t shake the mental images of careless drivers. The sight of an ambulance nearby triggers my imagination to picture a loved one in a catastrophic accident.
I wonder if I’m alone in these thoughts. I suspect I’m not; many parents harbor similar anxieties but don’t voice them for fear of being labeled neurotic or a hypochondriac. There’s also an unspoken superstition that sharing our deepest fears might somehow make them more likely to come true.
For those seeking more information on fertility and family planning, I recommend exploring this resource for helpful insights. Additionally, this article offers an authoritative perspective on creating a family. And for a wealth of information on pregnancy and home insemination, visit this blog.
In summary, while the anxieties of parenthood can feel overwhelming, it’s crucial to remember that many share similar fears. By discussing these thoughts openly, we can support one another and find comfort in our shared experiences.