The Thing I Fear Most

There is not a lot in life I fear. This is not always a good thing.

When I was just barely big enough to reach the measuring line, stretching my spine as much as I could, I lived for the roller coasters that would go fast and upside down. My mother would stand next to the track and wait for me as I went over and over on the scariest rides with my big cousin. My cousin taught me to wait for the first car and put my hands in the air to make it more exciting, which I did, because more exciting was good.

I've been bitten in the face twice by dogs, once it resulted in several stitches, mainly because I had no fear and put my face right down to that cute, snarling, snapping dog.

I used to climb out my window in Montana in the middle of the night in summer, and roam the dark woods by myself, or lay in the meadow in my night gown and feel very small...and liking that feeling

I've looked bears in the eyes, held a giant bangle tigers head in my lap, played with snakes, and let spiders crawl up my arms.

When I was eighteen I went sky-diving and as I scooted along the bench to jump out of the open door thousands of feet in the air, I just remember being excited, no fear. Not even a little.

I love rock-climbing, and mountaineering, where you can dangle your feet over the side of a ledge thousands of feet up and look at the world below.

I love when your skis leave the ground, and there's nothing but empty space between you and the ground, and just being so close to flying.

I love the feeling of the unknown, the excitement of being surrounded by foreign things, foreign faces, a foreign tongue, and not knowing how in the world I can get from point A to point B. I love that.

I don't fear death. Graveyards are some of my favorite things, I like to lay in a quiet one near my house, deep in the woods and think of how peaceful it will be to rest.

I love driving my motorcycle to fast, feeling the power as an extension of my body, pushing the limits. Being a little wild.

I thrive on public speaking, large groups, and mental challenges. There's not much in life I fear.

But there is one thing that makes my throat go dry. My palms sweat, my breathing speed, my knees weak. And that is something now that I cannot avoid...it is a fear that is growing inside of me, moving within myself, a part, a extension of me....I am terrified of having children.

It's not the labor, the deliver, or the copious amounts of pain that frighten me. I say bring it. But it is the unshakable feeling of being helpless in what my children inherit. It is the overwhelming fear of seeing my weaknesses in my children, and knowing that I am responsible.

It is one thing to have weaknesses that you do battle with daily; that is one thing. It's humbling, and humiliating, and frightening. But it’s something altogether different to watch the people you love most in life, struggle with what you have developed in your own failures. How will I explain my struggles to my children as I watch them deal with them themselves? How will I find an excuse to excuse the suffering that they most endure because of what they have gotten from me? These are questions I cannot answer. I fear.

But the clock keeps ticking, and my body tells me I am changing...and sooner or later I must face this fear. My only malady for my dilemma is that there must be, has to be...grace. And also...that they may turn out like their father.