A Year Outside of the Classroom: Chapter 22- Small Human, Big Fears

One of my favorite series of stories as a child were the Classic Franklin Stories by Paulette Bourgeois. They always began the same: "Franklin could count by twos and tie his shoes..." From there, the list of the things Franklin could do were listed in different ways each time. When I read those stories, I liked to see which of Franklin's skills I could finally claim as well.

This shows the true innocence of childhood. 

Currently, the first sentence in the adult novel I am reading is "Seconds before our truck slams into the tree, I remember the first time I tried to save a life." (The novel is Lone Wolf by Jodi Picoult for anyone wondering :) How different and more complex adulthood is...

On June 8th, I became an aunt for the first time as Zaida was born at 7:21 PM. We thought of her for the months before, imagined her little feet kicking her Mama's abdominal wall and tried to imagine the minuscule size of her fingers. That's about where the imagination stopped. I did not know what to expect as an aunt. More importantly, the thoughts that seemed to overpower any imaginations were worries. 

Since I entered my 20's, I also happened to enter into a stage where I am terrified, petrified, worried, really really worried by the thought of anyone bringing a small human into this world. Yes, people do it everyday; yes, up until this point I still want to be a pediatrician, a caretaker of tiny humans; and yes, I admire the women who have embraced motherhood. 

But being responsible for raising a small human seems like the most terrifying job on the planet. 

My goals as a tiny human were building my skills up to Franklin's level (you can tell I was pretty competitive). I spent time combing the hair of my collection of Barbies. I counted how many stories on my teacher's bookshelf I had successfully completed. I avoided rainbow puddles on the pavement because I was afraid my skin would turn into the colors of the rainbow. 

I was never aware of how it relaxed my parents' minds when I spent time reading instead of playing in the streets. I never paid attention to the work it took my father to provide me with the lunches I took to school. I didn't think twice about how incredibly difficult it was for my mother to carry four different children in her body for 9 months. I didn't think how many nights my mother lay awake at night, awakened by her racing brain telling her to get up to check if we were simply breathing. I never thought of how often my parents brought us back to the straight line we tried to deviate from countless times. No child thinks about this stuff.

Yet while my sister bought tutu's and squealed in preparation and excitement for our first niece, I let my fears get the best of me. All the things I did not realize as a child were all coming to me as an adult. I know that she was not my child, but she would be my family. This small human was not immune to my concerns. 

On June 8th, I held Zaida in my arms for the first time and my niece- my niece!- looked straight into my eyes. I have tried over and over again to explain how I felt in that moment, but all I can describe is I kept thinking, "I would literally do anything for you." Tears formed in my eyes uncontrollably as I realized that what this small human just did to me could never be undone. 

Later that night, my best friend asked me how it felt and my only response was, "I understand when people say they would take a bullet for someone."

I have held this little one so many times. When I am away from her, I notice that my worries and concerns gnaw at me and try to make it to the front of my mind. However, when she is in my arms, when she locks eyes with mine, when I listen to her quick-paced breathing while she sleeps on my chest, I am stunned by the lightness of my big fears. They lift on their own, and I have realized that this is why many people do have kids, despite their fear. Those concerns and worries never go away, but this life, this small human, brings more to life than those fears and concerns could ever take away. They dream of helping this small human build up her skills like Franklin's, step by step. They imagine her small feet running around a house, a ponytail bouncing up and down, or short hair in her face. Maybe her tutu's will sparkle when she twirls. Maybe she'll prefer apple juice to orange. Maybe she'll be a perfectionist and color inside the lines.

Zaida has reminded me of the innocence of childhood, and all my fears mean nothing compared to the excitement of experiencing these moments with her, inshAllah.