- Top Features:
- War Room
- Glenn Greenwald
- Broadsheet
- Joan Walsh
- Camille Paglia
- Since You Asked
- Follow Salon:
Read other letters about this article
I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard. My own lampreys are 19 and 15, but I can still remember the terror of looming failures. I promise, you're just oozing hormones right now. Not that your fears aren't valid -- some of them are, but mostly the ones on page 2. Babies are easy, nursing is a breeze. Sleep, though -- by the time you've caught up on sleep, the kid will have a learner's permit.
Meanwhile, he or she won't remember the gazillion walks (in the night or to the park) or the endless repetitions of Goodnight, Moon, or any of that lovely stuff over which you (and I, and the rest of us) will someday weep at the assisted living facility where they've stashed us, hoping to have the time to visit.
But all of that front-end loaded love will be in their emotional infrastructure somewhere, and if you (and I, and the rest of us) are lucky, you'll see for yourself that the frets and fears and insecurity made you a good parent, because the lamprey has survived till adulthood and produced your grandlampreys, who will think you are as wonderful as their parents thought you were when they were little. And they'll be right.
Have a wonderful birth!
