I Think We're Alone Now

When I was a teenager I babysat to make spending money, but I had a secret: I was afraid to be alone with the kids I was minding. Now, I am alone with two babies many hours every day and that old fear still bubbles up.

In the mornings as Matt leaves for work and the night nurse heads off into the sunrise, I think, "Don't leave me alone with these babies! What am I going to do when they wake up?"

Of course they always wake up (thank god) and I overcome the fear long enough to do the things you're supposed to do with babies: Pick them up, cuddle them, kiss them, feed them, change them, sing to them, love them. But under the surface the anxiety looms.

I'm not scared of an accident happening. I'm mostly just terrified that August and Finley will cry loudly and uncontrollably. Which they sometimes do. I’m scared they'll cry so long and so loudly that I'll start to cry too, that I'll just sink onto the ground saying, "I can't do this!" or that a neighbor will call child protective services and the three of us will be discovered wailing on the floor of the babies' room and be hauled off by the authorities.

There's also this: Part of it is a fear that I lack the leadership skills to helm a family.

Let me tell you an embarrassing story. When I was in the sixth grade, I was elected class president for the second half of the school year. This was a huge deal because I'd just moved to town at the beginning of the year, so the fact that my new classmates liked me enough to make me their president was really an honor.

But then when the class president from the first semester – a supremely confident and popular girl -- announced my name, she said, "Well, come on up to the front of the room, Marla." She wanted me to take over the rest of the election process, which included taking nominations for vice president etc., and writing the candidates' names on the chalkboard. I have always had awful handwriting and been a terrible speller, so I was petrified to write on the blackboard. I thought everyone would suddenly realize I was not worthy of their votes. I was so scared that I told the teacher I didn't want to be president after all.

It may sound silly, but that decision is one of my biggest regrets. Of course, I should have faced my fears and just gone ahead and been president. I mean, if George W. Bush can be president of the United States, I could handle being president of the sixth grade, right? Anyway, sometimes I still feel like that little girl who doesn't want to be class president. All my self-doubt comes out and I think, "Who left me in charge of these small babies? I'm not qualified for this. There must be some mistake. What if I mess up?"

But the deed is done. I am the president of mommyhood for August and Finley. I can't step down. So when that door closes in the mornings and I'm alone with them, I acknowledge the panic then move on. I'm even starting to enjoy our alone time because of the other feelings it occasionally brings out like confidence, peace and flashes of joy.