After I became a new mom at the age of twenty-nine, my entire life was built around fear.
When my daughter, Ezra, was six weeks old, I went back to the gym for the first time since giving birth. A mother of four — who can deadlift way more than I can — wondered why I hadn’t brought my newborn with me; the gym provided free childcare.
“I’m too scared to drive my daughter anywhere,” I blurted out. “I don’t want her to die.”
Her expression made me think perhaps it wasn’t normal for a new parent to have such thoughts. I’d been hoping she might have some advice about how to avoid interstates for moms who couldn’t stop panicking over the possibility of a high-speed collision.