Mommy blog: When the fear of death haunts you

"Are you afraid of death?" is a standard question that I have been asked at many points in my life. I have always shrugged it off without much thought as it has never been a burning, or in my opinion, pertinent question given where I am in my life. Who thinks about death when one is young and reckless? 

One's life is instead dictated by other milestone events like graduation, jobs, marriage and then childbirth. Over the last year, though, I have felt a shift in my head and heart; the death question is weighing down on me because I am a mother.

I am always stepping on the accelerator when I make my way back home at the end of a work day, eager to be reunited with my baby. Every second counts and I know that if I am late, she will be waiting by the door, her face pressed against the glass, on the lookout for me. Most days I visit the restroom before I leave office because I know I will not have a moment to myself once I am home; very often I don't even get to put my bag down as she demands I scoop her up stat. So anyway, here I was, driving down the highway, thinking about S and I thought about what would happen if I never made it home. Now ordinarily I would quell this line of thinking, even dismiss it as plain foolish, but after having a child you suddenly find yourself mulling over questions about life and living, temporary vs permanent, terminal illness and the like. In fact, your well-being becomes imperative because it is always linked to theirs. As a primary caregiver, your biggest fear is not being available when your child needs you the most as you are convinced no one else will be able to understand or nurture them like you.

Issues of mortality have never played on my mind, yet I find myself thinking more and more about what would happen to my baby if I was not around. I know of parents who never travel together because if something were to happen to one, at least the other would be there to tend to the children. I remember laughing when I first heard this, wondering whether the people in question were loopy. In the years since, I am actually humbled, knowing where their fears stem from. "We should think about a will," I told the husband over the weekend. He looked at me queerly, "We don't have anything we can will our daughter," he said. "I don't mean leave stuff for her," I explained, "I mean if something was to happen to us who would we will her to?" His parents? My parents? Siblings? Friends? I checked and unchecked each box, convinced that no one would be able to bring her up the way we wanted (it was bad enough that we were struggling with it). 

Having a child does that to you. While earlier, falling sick meant being able to take an extra day off from work, now I find myself hoarding my leave in case I need it for my baby. I now worry if I begin to sniffle or feel the start of any ache. I cannot afford to fall sick. I know it all sounds a bit alarmist and over the top but being a working mother with a husband who is more away than here, my baby and her well-being are the focal points of my life once I am done with my work day.

A few weeks ago, a friend of my sister's who I did not know at all never made it home one evening. She was on her way back from a work trip and had an accident. She was young, had 10-year-old twins, and a happy life. I felt sick in the pit of my stomach, constantly thinking of the children who would never see their mother again. I went online, scoured her Facebook page, consumed all her happy pictures and felt terribly sad. Death is never about the person dying; it is about those being left behind with the unfilled gaps, memories and questions that deserve answers. And it is particularly heartbreaking when young children are involved as honestly, no one can replace parents.

So I slowed down the car till I was cruising at 50, grateful for another day to love my baby and have a few laughs. I know there's no telling when one falls off the radar but being parents makes the thought that much more poignant. The frailty of human life takes on new meaning post the baby, as I turn my back on my home and step out for another work day.