Because you're mine I walk the line.

I think Spiderman said it best: "With great power comes great responsibility."

And with great love comes great worry.

If there's a downside to the incredible, overwhelming, monumental, unbreakable love I have for my daughter, it's the worry. Everyone tells you, before you become a parent, that you're going to worry. People recite that quote, "To have a child is to have your heart go wandering around outside your body." Being a worrier by nature--and that's somewhat of an understatement--I believed it. I knew I'd be concerned about the well-being of my child. I just had no idea that it would be this acute, just like I had no idea the love would be this strong.

There are so many things to worry about. SIDS. Sickness. Accidents. Every day in the news, there are statistics about fatal diseases, stories of murders and strollers falling onto train tracks. Just today on MSN I read that 100 babies die from the flu every year. When I hold her, I could drop her. When she's sleeping, she could stop breathing. Anyone around her is a potential illness-spreader. We have to situate her right in the sling so she doesn't smother; we have to be careful bathing her so she doesn't slip; we have to maneuver her around with care so we don't hit her head or let it drop. Everything I do is an exercise in Making Sure She's Okay, which inevitably makes me think a lot about her Not Being Okay. And I'm not okay with her not being okay.

It's like: I want to be a super vigilant mom. I'm glad to be firm about holding her carefully, checking on her often when she's sleeping, not letting sick people visit, washing my hands frequently, not letting the cats go in her room, etc. I want to be careful and concerned and follow my maternal instinct in everything I do. She's a tiny baby; that's the way it should be. I just don't want to be so wracked with worry that I can't just relax and enjoy motherhood. I want to perform the actions necessary to ensure her health and safety without the emotional distress that accompanies those actions. When we're in the tub together for bathtime, I want to be thinking "Yay! Bathtime with my baby!" and not "Oh-god-don't-drop-her-don't-drop-her-don't-drop-her." Is that even possible? I don't know. I just know that the fact that something bad could happen to her and it's 100% my job to make sure it doesn't--it's a lot of pressure. And a lot of fear.

One of the things that amazed me about becoming a mother is how quickly I couldn't care less about myself anymore. I really couldn't. I have to force myself to think about my own health now and it's only because I need to be healthy in order to take care of her. All I care about is her. I would die before I would let a hair on her head be harmed. And that's a beautiful thing, that kind of epic love, but it's also a really scary thing. She depends on me for so much and I also have to depend on myself because I depend on her (and I just gave myself a headache). I always thought fear and love were polar opposites, but apparently they're just two sides of the same coin.

Is this normal parent stuff? Will I always feel this way? Will it get easier naturally or will I somehow find a way to get my baby business done without stressing about it? (Find out, on the next episode of Neurotic Mom!)