We welcomed a new baby to the family this week and I can’t get out of my mind how much it is a welcome to a world of worry.
Worrying about them, people around them, germs, even the air around them. Worrying when you’re with them that you’re doing too much, that you’re doing too little, that you’re being a helicopter parent, or that you look as if you don’t give a flying whatsit. Worrying that they’re falling behind their peers, not putting on enough weight, putting on too much weight, one toe is longer than the other.
Worrying that their clothes are a bit big, too scruffy, not the right brand. Worrying when they won’t stop crying, worrying when they’re too quiet, worrying that the tv is too loud, worrying that the only place they will ever sleep is in the car, then worrying when you see a red light cos you know that stopping will wake them up.
Worrying about breastfeeding, worrying about not breastfeeding, worrying they’ve had too much milk or worrying that they’ve had too little. Worrying about childcare, did you go back to work too soon or should you go back at all?
Worrying that you haven’t done the car seat up properly or did you do it too tight, have they got milk down their clothes, have you?
You genuinely never stop worrying from the time you first saw the blue line on that test. And I don’t think it gets any easier as they grow up, you just worry about different things.

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