Sitting wringing my hands

I have new things to add to my list of stuff crazy pregnant women should not be exposed to: the news. My craziness manifests itself as uncontrollable worry. Monday night some maniac killed five people at a Utah mall. These poor people were out eating with their families and shopping, they never saw it coming. So the uninterrupted news coverage of the horrible event has been enough to make me fret all through the night.

I can not protect my kids. It's a horrible fact that I am struggling to understand. I made my children, I chose to bring them into this world, but I can't keep all harm from them. I hate the feeling of being powerless. I am a self-professed control freak, and proud of it. How can I make it though life knowing I can't stop bad things from happening to two of the world's most wonderful people?

This dilemma is not unique to me, I am sure every parent feels this way at one point or another. Pregnancy hormones weaken the wall around my feelings, so I feel everything. I recorded American Idol last night, yes it's my guilty pleasure. Turner and I watched it together this morning over a bowl of oatmeal. There was a brother and sister on the show, the brother made it through to the next round and the sister didn't. The boy couldn't even smile, he ran to his sister to comfort her. This of course brings tears to my eyes. I am a sap, fine, I can live with that. What I can't live with is the news cast we watched after Idol was over. A one year old baby died in a house fire last night. This prompts more tears and begins a long discussion.

Trying to tell a two year old about emergency evacuation routes is not a wise idea. I take another tactic. Tell him if we are ever in a fire for him to get out of the house. Firemen are our friends. Go to the fireman. Go out of where ever we are and I'll let you ride the fire truck. How do I cram all the things he needs to know in his little head? I know there's time, but I don't know what lessons he'll need first.

So no more news for me for a while. My thoughts are with the family of that little boy. I prayed to let them be able to breathe with out their son. I look at Turner and feel so lucky and blessed for every minute I have with him. Puts in perspective those days when tantrums are plentiful and smiles are few. Those are still great days, because my baby is safe and healthy.

I went through this same extended panic phase after Turner was born. I loved him before I had him, but nothing prepared me for the instant love I had for him the minute he came out. Now my hormones have easier prey. I already have the world's best boy here to worry about. I'll have the world's best girl in a few months.

So I have to pray hard. Talk to God and ask for peace so I can enjoy the incredible life I have, not spend all day worrying about the "What if's". I know worry does nothing but waste my time and drain me, but it's hard to get out of my head. Strange how having two souls in one body can make a person really nuts.