One of the thoughts that has been hanging around in my head lately is how parenthood is making me rise above the person I am…or was. You can’t integrate a whole new person into your life so deeply without changing yourself. That is a daunting, but lovely thing. It’s been far more rewarding than not.
Before having my son, I was convinced that my own fear of it was learned and therefore, avoidable. How relieved and amazed I was when Adam would walk around the house at age 1, fearless of rooms where the light was off. He would hide in the master bedroom closet and close himself in the completely dark room with no anxiety about what he could not see. Now, at age 2, he has a pretty solid fear of the dark. He won’t go into a dim room without asking for someone to accompany him or to turn the light on for him. He is so aware of his fear he can talk about it and in his words, he is afraid of the dark, “because [it is] creepy.”
Matt and I have both tried to talk to him about how the dark is nothing to fear. I taught him to walk into a dark room with confidence, exclaiming, “Hey, hey, it’s just me, Adam, in here.” He actually likes strutting into a shadowy room saying, “Hey Dark, here, I am, Adam”—as long as Mom or Dad is right behind him. So far, we’ve made about zero progress in conquering his fear. Not a big deal. He is, after all, only 2.
Our efforts remind me of my dad’s own struggle to convince me to not be afraid of the dark. He always said, “You have more to fear from the living.” My fear of the dark ultimately stemmed from my fear of the paranormal. Try as he did, he never got me over my fear, but he did convince me of his own fearlessness. I relied on that fearlessness, because as a kid (and sometimes as an adult), I needed someone that I felt safe with and someone I could turn to for protection from all life’s dangers (imagined or real). I needed my dad to be the final safe place whenever I could not create that place within myself. I guess, that’s what parenthood is about.
We might never convince Adam to be comfortable in the dark, but I made a decision several weeks ago to be a safe place for him. I don’t have the option of displaying fear. I’ll let him learn my fallibility when he is an adult and he evaluates his childhood and whether I’ve done a decent job. For now, the big lesson has been for me to know how to strut into a dark room alone and say, “Hey, it’s me, Mommy, here!”
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