It has been interesting raising kittens while being pregnant. At first, they were a focal point for all of my surging maternal hormones. I cuddled and coddled them, bought only the expensive kitten food, and made sure they had plenty of toys and supervised outside time. Now, they absorb my misplaced anxiety. I worry when they go out the door. I worry they will be plucked up by an owl or maimed by a marauding dog. I think about speeding cars and bobcats and ticks and fleas. I love them because they are so fuzzy and adorable and funny and quirky, and I worry because they are small and vulnerable and soft. So what happens when this child of mine comes into the world, all helpless, naked flesh and bone? How do parents live with the worry? I can already imagine how much I will love this child, and it frightens me. In the book Operating Instructions, Ann Lammott talks about how she felt invincible until her son was born, like there was no loss or setback she couldn't recover from. But with the birth of her baby came a new vulnerability. I feel like I'm on the brink of that frightening abyss. More than how to change a diaper or recognize different cries, I worry about how to handle the kind of love I know I'm about to experience. I wouldn't want to live my life without it, but I'm not sure how I'm going to live with it.
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