Children inherit the fears of the mother. I know I inherited some of my mother's. Her fear of heights was never a problem for my skydiving self until I got engaged. Weird, but as soon as that ring was on my finger, my sense of responsibility kicked in and I became pathologically afraid of anything that goes up, plummeting down. Her fear of losing control...definitely with me to a degree. Her hypochondria...a well set stain on my genes until last year.
My fear of flying - gone, my fear of heights - gone, my fear of dying - been there, done that, my fear of my son dying - been there, done that and if he wants to do it again, he will in his own time. Don't misunderstand, I would be devastated. I adore him to the core of his being. To fear or not to fear a death can't diminish the sadness of it, but it also can't save you in the end. I feared his dying for the first 3 months of his life and it stopped me from bonding with him. If fear can do this to mother and child, what does it do to every aspect of our lives?
After 12 minutes of death, he moved his arm. He decided to live for now and maybe that's all any of us can do.
