“If the results don’t come back showing an infection, then we will send her for a kidney ultrasound.”
The doctor was referring to my nine-year-old daughter.
As we drove home, I reached over and held her hand, repeatedly squeezing it three times. Sending the words ‘I love you’ up to her.
My fear was real. It was also irrational.
I spent the evening Googling, ‘Blood in urine. No other symptoms’. Never Google. Never.
I didn’t sleep. My mind racing ahead to a thousand unthinkable conclusions. My heart vulnerable. Nerve endings worn on the outside, from the moment I held each of my children in my arms for the first time.
Logic, statistics, all stacked in her favour but still, I lay next to her that night, inhaling the scent of her hair. Feeling the rapid beating of my own heart, mismatched to her quiet breathing.
Results on Friday. The week stretches ahead of me. Acres of un-slept nights filled with unfounded fears.
Nothing fuels fear as fiercely as love. The fear of loss. The fear of pain. The fear of the unknown. The fear of careless words and stones thrown. Tearing of tethers, ties that break.
My voice is reassuring, my smile willing. Doing nothing for the heavy stone in my chest.
I know, you know, we all know, that the doctor’s phone call on Friday will bring relief.
Until then though, I hold my breath and try not to blink when I look at her. For fear of missing a single moment.
I look so hard. The profile of her face, the upturn of her nose, the way her smile creases into dimples, cementing them into my mind. I love fiercely.
Fiercely and fearfully.
For that is the beautiful agony of parenthood.
Live a Well Life 
Oh, mama. Yes, our fears over our children are the worst kind – we wrap so much emotion up in their tiny beings, and want to shelter them from every unpleasantness. I’m sure your daughter is in capable hands, medically, and even if something needed to be addressed, it could be. When I have worries about my kids health I take such great comfort in our easy access to medical care. But likely she won’t need it. 🙂
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Thank you so much. I am sure it will all be OK too. You are so very right, we wrap so much emotion up in their tiny beings. x
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Indeed! 💗
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Succinct writing increases the impact: wonderfully personal, beautifully universal.
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Thank you, that is a humbling compliment. X
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The agony we feel over our small people–its exquisite. The fear I feel for my child has a very particular physical sensation: it is icy cold and heavy. It starts in my heart and shoots straight down my body. When I feel it starting, I close my eyes and I remember that God (or the universe or the Great Good, whatever…) loves her more that I do, wants only good for her. That all-encompassing, endless love chases away the fear. It’s really the only thing that can.
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You are so right about it being a physical as well as emotional sensation/experience. X
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You reminded me of every run to the ER when my daughters were tossed off the horses they loved. My beard went from red to silver in a blink of time. Well written.
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Nothing like parenthood to give us greys! 🙂
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“Nothing fuels fear as fiercely as love. The fear of loss. The fear of pain. The fear of the unknown. ” I especially love these sentences.
I’m not a mom, but I have the greatest mom ever, so I think I have the fear that you mentioned here too. Whenever my mother gets seriously ill, I feel scared, panicked and afraid that something wrong might happen to her. I’m afraid that I cannot hold her hands, hug her and kiss her every day anymore. I’m afraid of losing her forever…
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It’s so true. These two emotions are so tightly entwined xx
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