Nothing teaches you about fear like becoming a parent. Nothing.
I recall the first night we brought our baby home. We took it in turns to stay awake through the night as she slept. Just in case.
And I recall that same night, around three am, when she wouldn’t sleep unless snuggled next to me as I fought to keep my eyes open and then, little by little, failed to do so. I remember how I berated myself for taking such a risk! I admit, I had an awful lot to learn.
Today, she has a rash. Red patches that can settle on neither spots nor splodges and leave me dashing to google for a diagnosis. She is fine.
Ultimately, I am terrified of losing her and it takes almost more than I have to keep that in check every day as we deal with all the big bad world dares to offer.
But the fear I have found is so much more than this. It is a fear of myself and all the damage I will undoubtedly do. I dread the thought of breaking her.
And the only thing that scares me more is that thought that I might not be around to see just how misplaced all my fears might be.