Kiddlywinks

I have 2. I don't know what to say about them, aside from the fact that they're awesome.

I have a daughter. She is like a snowstorm, all howling wind and biting cold and natural ferocity; and then, she's like a frozen lake, so still and patient and lifeless-seeming you can hardly believe she's breathing; and then, if she smiles or laughs, she's like the sun, and she thaws herself and the entire room in one burst of warmth, and no one can resist her quiet, amused smirk and sideways glance.

And I also have a son. He is all sweetness and light, a cheeky, cheery ray of toothy, smiley goodness, a greeting for everyone who walks through the door, and just enough energy, force, drive, to accomplish everything he sets his mind to. And then, if his tiny baby will is thwarted, he is made of sadness--great fat tears, rolling down his face like a waterfall, while he sobs as if his heart has shattered.

My kids. They are so beautiful. So unique, and funny, and special, and playful, and sweet, and clever, and pleasant, and just plain fun. I love them more than I ever realised was possible, in a way that I didn't really realise was possible, before they got here.

It's so scary, though. Terrifying. What if something happened to one of them? I can't even think it. My heart might stop, from fear alone. Everything they do, each new milestone they hit, is a cause for celebration, and panic. My eldest is at nursery now--3 hours every day, in the company of randoms, where I can't watch her, look out for her, take care of her. My youngest is walking, mostly across the couch--every time he falls, every time he tries to climb onto the windowsill, my stomach jumps up into my mouth.

I read in a book (the book wasn't even about kids/progeny/breeding, it was a one-paragraph conversation amid 300 pages of other topics) the statement by one of the character's that she'd never had kids because she, 'couldn't handle that kind of fear.' The author of the book must have children, to have been able to create a character with such a concisely-expressed, deeply-felt opinion on procreation.

I don't understand why it should be this way. How can the most wonderful thing you've ever done, cause you more fear and distress and pain than anything else in your entire life? My kids are so beautiful, and I love them so much. How *can* it be, that that equates to abject terror, as often as not? I'm not complaining. I'm not wishing things were different. I'm happy to worry over my kids, as much or even more than I worry about myself. I just... like all parents, I wish there were more guarantees. I wish I could know that they'd be safe, and happy, and healthy, and long-lived, and fulfilled.

My advice to anyone who's thinking about having children, is to make absolutely certain you have the emotional strength and resilience you'll need, before you even start trying.