Yesterday D. played the video of 'Still Fighting It' by Ben Folds. It shows Ben having a good time with his son, shows happy times and sad and generally is a beautiful vision of a man and his son.

I cried. And cried. And cried. And then, started crying again.

No, it was not the first time I'd seen the video. Nor was it the first time I'd cried a little at it (the first time I saw it was shortly after D.s dad died, then when we had a son it brought a different meaning and I cried again). But not like last night. Last night I cried hysterically, unstoppingly, unconsolably. It was uncomfortable for all.

But why? Why would I cry like that? I don't really have an answer. I mean yes, it is a sentimental video and yes, I have a son and it is that kind of thing. But that much? And not knowing why I can't stop? Not cool.

I think, thinking about it, it is fear. It's looking at my son and realizing he's not a baby. He's growing up. Realizing that he makes choices and will continue to make them. Realizing that I'm not supermom and never will be He's playing right now as I type this - I'm letting him enjoy exploratory, independant play for a bit - and he's just so big. So independant and so thoughtful as he tries to figure things out.

And what if he figures things out and he doesn't want to be around me? What about if he cuts me out of his life? What about when I don't know what's going on with him? What if he decides I'm a bad mom and decides I'm unhealthy for him to be around? What then?

Or, scarier still. What if there's something wrong with me and I die? What if I don't get to see him grow up? What if? What if? What if?

It's all fairly morbid thinking. Essentially life will be fairly normal. I'll have a relationship with him like my parents have with me - that of support and love. I'll live until I'm 97 or more. Things will be good.

I think that being a parent requires a lot of irrational fear and the ability to push it aside to live a normal life.

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