Worry is the Work of Motherhood

Last night, as I drove through the worst snow I’ve ever driven in, as my car fish-tailed around every corner and slid dangerously close to the edge of the road, a familiar state of worry set in: Would I be okay? Would I make it home? I’m sure I would have worried as a single person in that scenario, but being a mother adds an entirely new level of worry to any precarious situation. Would my baby be okay without me for a night? What if something catastrophic happened to me – would my kids make it through? etc etc. I flashed on a piece I wrote several months ago about worry and have decided to include it here today.

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