My friend looked me in the eye and said:
"Now that you have a kid, you will NEVER not worry."
Sophie, my daughter, was just a few weeks old, but I had already experienced more worrying for someone else than in the previous three decades. Her early days were quite rough for many reasons. (Some of which I will return to in a future note.)
She's my first child. During the first few weeks, I could only relax and sleep if we kept the lights on. I would regularly bend over her crib and listen to her breathing. Something I felt a bit stupid for doing that but I've since then learned it is not that uncommon among first-time fathers
So, my friend and I were having breakfast at this hotel downtown, where I often meet people. It's busy enough to speak freely without the fear of being heard, but not so busy that you can't hear what the other person is saying.
I'm closer, in age, to my friend's kids than I am to him; he has proper fatherhood experience. And I'm lamenting to him about my anxiety, probably seeking comfort. Instead, he said, "Now that you have a kid, you will NEVER not worry."
And comfort, it somehow did because it revealed to me what I should expect and accept. I will have to find a way to adjust to the new reality. And knowing that my reality was normality made it easier.
Writer Elizabeth Stone said having kids means "having your heart go walking around outside your body."
Never have I heard anything more true.
But the surprising thing is that having your heart walking around outside your body is unexpectedly also the best feeling in the world.