The hardest part

When I was pregnant with Kevin, my first baby, 12 years ago, I spent a great deal of time looking forward to his birth, believing that when I could hold him in my arms and see with my own eyes that he was healthy, then I could heave a sigh of relief and stop worrying about his well-being. Little did I know that when a baby leaves the safety of his mother's womb, that's when the real worrying starts.

I remember very clearly many nights when I would sit in the dark of Kevin's nursery, cradling him in the rocking chair, and literally crying my eyes out over all the horrible things that could befall him: leukemia . . . abduction . . . car accident . . . I seriously almost drove myself over the edge with this stuff sometimes. I never realized before he was born how much I would miss being pregnant with him . . . not only because I just really love being pregnant, but because that's the only time a mother is one with her child, where she has him to herself, protected, safe, cocooned from the dangers of the life. I missed that so much, even though when I had it (while I was pregnant), I didn't realize it. After Kevin was born, suddenly the world seemed like such a dangerous, risky place.

What I've learned over the years, though, and over the course of parenting now 6 children is that parenting is hard. It hurts. It hurts to love someone so much, to have your heart all wrapped up in these little humans running around. It's hard dealing with the whining and the bickering and the attitudes and the misbehavior. It's hard trying to raise them to be decent, caring people. It's hard to let them spread their wings, and sometimes fall flat on their faces - and sometimes not! It's hard worrying about all the terrible things that could happen to them.

But the hardest part is realizing that there are things in life that you just can't protect them from. Like prejudice. Like unkindness. Like ignorance. Like intolerance. Like selfishness.

I've spent the better part of the day so far crying because I just don't understand people's refusal to be kind, and because I know that I can't truly protect my children from it. I want to believe in people's overall goodness. I want to believe that generally, the world is a safe, good place. But today I'm filled with so much doubt about that, and sorrow because of it.

This is the hardest part.