New Mum Anxieties

I'm an nervous, jumpy sort of person. Loud noises make me leap out of my skin, I get a stress headache from watching horror films and I once drove my car into a ditch when a wasp flew in through the open window. I live by the motto "Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong".

Bad, I know. I need to lighten up.

But then at 37 years of age, just as I felt I was entering maturity and learning to let go a little, I became a mum.

Now my fears have multiplied by about, oh, maybe a zillion. Seriously. Danger lurks everywhere.

Thank God apparently I'm not alone in this. Other mums tell me that when it comes to their babies, they immediately think of the worst case scenario too. We like to call it "catastrophising" (as opposed to fantasizing).

Here are some of my favourite Impending Doom moments:

• When dad plays rough with baby. Yes, my child is screaming with delight as he's being spun, flung and hung upside down. Me, I may be smiling on the outside. In my head I'm already dialling for the trauma unit.

• When friends, neighbours and family smother my new born with kisses (this is the thing about Spain, there's LOTS of kissing). I'm trying to appear relaxed and go with the flow whilst silently panicking about all the deadly diseases my child is catching. Afterwards, I'll clean his little face down with baby wipes. And pray.

• This is the obvious one: when he sleeps. I admit mums are not alone with this one, dad's do this too. Is the baby breathing? Will he have rolled over and can't cry out for help? Is he suffocating on his blanket/sleepy toy/milk chuck up? For the tenth time that night, despite the baby monitor and that tiny little bit of sanity you still have left, you get up and check. It's almost a relief when he wakes up screaming at 4am. At least you know he's still alive!

• When you leave him with your husband/grandparents/baby sitter/nursery for the first time. Oh. My. God. Will they give him the right food? What if there's an accident? What colour is his poo today? You check your phone constantly. Eventually you give in and call. It's not that you don't trust other people. It's just that they are not his mum.

• Solid foods. A total pitfall. Half the time you're convinced he's not having enough or your giving him the wrong thing. During the other half you just know he'll end up obese. And blame you for it.

• Now this is a trickiest one of them all: disfunction. If you've never tortured yourself by over analysing your and your partner's behaviour, now's the perfect time for it. As you nag, complain, project and over eat through your day, there are ample moments when you can stop to consider the vast psychological damage you're inflicting on your offspring by, well, just being you. Welcome to parenthood.

Seriously though, it's not all that bad. When I lie awake after the 4am feed, terribly alert and unable to get back to sleep thanks to the adrenaline that seems to pump through my body 24 hours a day, I sometimes get humbling moments of clarity:

Despite all the back chat, the arguments, the sighs of frustration and the rolling of eyes you have subjected your own mother to over the years... She was only reminding you to take your scarf and gloves, or asking for the hundredth time if you'd eaten enough, because she loves you so damn much.