I Didn’t Fear Death Until I Became a Parent

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Most of us prefer to steer clear of discussions around death. It’s a topic that makes many uncomfortable, and understandably so. While I have no intention of rushing my exit from this world—I’m all about living life to the fullest—I’ve always maintained a certain acceptance of mortality. Death is inevitable, after all. It’s the one universal truth we all share, and ignoring it doesn’t change the fact that it’s coming for each of us at some point.

Growing up, I formed what I think is a pretty healthy perspective on death. I was raised with the belief that when our physical bodies cease to exist, our souls embark on a new journey towards something greater. Whether you call that heaven, an afterlife, or some cosmic transition, it ultimately doesn’t matter. What does matter is my belief that death isn’t the final chapter; it’s just part of a bigger story.

My faith describes death as “a messenger of joy,” encouraging us to embrace it with anticipation, much like we would a new adventure. So, I’ve always viewed the passing of loved ones as a sorrowful event for those left behind, but also the start of an incredible spiritual journey for them. This positive outlook kept my fears about dying at bay—until I became a parent.

The moment my first child was born, the thought of dying and leaving them without a mother became a source of deep fear. That anxiety has only intensified as my kids have grown; they are now 7, 12, and 16. The idea of my absence impacting their lives is unbearable. I can’t help but think about the heavy grief they would endure—not to mention the challenges my husband would face as he navigates his own heartache while supporting them. The notion of another woman stepping into my role is something I can’t even fathom.

I relish the joy of watching my children grow up, and the thought of missing out on their milestones—like graduations, weddings, and even the mundane conversations about life—is infuriating. I didn’t bring them into this world to leave them prematurely; I want to be there to guide them through everything life throws their way.

When I read about mothers who pass away when their kids are young, it shatters my heart. It’s a terrifying reminder that moms can and do die, and that’s something I struggle to wrap my head around. Suicide stories are even harder to digest; the idea of a mother choosing to leave her children is unfathomable to me. It simply doesn’t compute.

This fear of dying has become a constant companion. While I don’t let it dictate my life, it certainly colors my decisions. For instance, while skydiving might seem exhilarating, I won’t even consider it until my kids are fully grown. Fear of dying on an airplane has become part of my travel routine. I find myself weighing risks that clash with my adventurous spirit.

So, I pray. That’s really all I can do when faced with something so unpredictable. I trust that whatever happens will ultimately be for the best. I often wonder if I’ll ever return to a state of not fearing death. Maybe once my kids are adults, but for now, that seems like a distant dream.

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In summary, becoming a parent has reshaped my views on mortality in profound ways. Once a topic I approached with acceptance, fear has crept in as I worry about leaving my children behind. Balancing life with this anxiety isn’t easy, but I cling to hope and prayer as I navigate this unpredictable journey.