The Changeling's Cottage

My Dearëst Zoë,

I write this here because it just doesn't seem right to put it on your blog.  It's something I don't really want to directly tell you, but yet somehow wish you just knew anyway. 

I have cried more in the 3 years you've been in my life than all the previous years combined.  Mostly, I think I cry from fear.  Ever since I knew I was pregnant, I have been terrified.  There's so much that I don't have control over in this world, so many ways I could lose you.  I am scared every day, every moment I'm left alone long enough to be aware of my thoughts.  Every single one of them revolves around the panic that I will not be able to protect you from everything and that potentially I could lose you through sickness, accident or violence.  I'm like Nemo's Dad, but I don't want to raise you in the shadow of my terror so I try to act normal around you.  I know the world isn't as terrifying and threatening as it seems to me.  My take on the world is a product of a warped perspective, not an accurate reflection of the way things really are. 

I have always been a fearful person.  When I was a kid, I used to have a hard time falling asleep because I was afraid someone would sneak into the house and stab me or cut my throat.  I got used to falling asleep with a pillow clutched to my stomach because I reasoned that if someone stabbed me through it I might still live.  I lay there in my room and planned potential escape routes if we were ever under attack from home invaders or werewolves or home invading werewolves.  I would lay perfectly still for hours, literally frozen in terror and see in my mind over and over again a close up of my throat being slit and whether I would be able to drag myself to my parent's room with the little time I had left or not.  I didn't fall asleep until I was exhausted and then I would make a bargain with God that if he allowed murderers into my room, he would at least make sure I didn't wake up and feel the pain.  With that uneasy truce as my last thought, I'd finally fall asleep.

I also used to imagine my life after my mother had died.  How would I cope without her?  Would I even be able to live?  I would imagine every detail and then cry until my eyes were swollen and I could barely breathe.  I came to the conclusion that I could never possibly live one day without her and her future aging became another focus for my fear. 

Somehow I never thought my fear was excessive or unusual.  I just lived with it and accepted it as part of who I was.  I've lived with it ever since I can remember so it just seemed normal to me.  It took the greatest love of my life (you) to finally realize that there is something wrong though.  The fear in my life is omnipresent.  I don't go a single day without some kind of catastrophe manifesting itself in my imagination.  I wish to show you the magic of the world, all the great and amazing sights to see, sounds to hear, flavors to taste and people to meet and love.  Every single person struggles with something in their character.  I am just over-blessed with a fearful nature.  It is a trait that I will try with every ounce of my will to keep from you.  I want you to see the world as wonderful, as a place of opportunity. 

I don't know how to make my fears go away.  I have been given my life's greatest gift in you and because of my character, instead of taking joy in the pleasure you bring, all I can do is feel the most terrible fear that if I enjoy you too much, you'll be taken away from me.  It's been a repeating theme of my life.  The people I love the most I am the most terrified of losing.  It would be cliche to say this is some kind of abandonment issue from adoption.  I know that factors in there somewhere, but maybe I would have been this way with or without adoption.  Maybe I was just born with fears of being left alone.  I can cope with my fears.  I've been doing so this long.  I just don't want to pass them down to you.  If I can raise you free of these unreasonable fears, I will be happy.

All my love,

Mama