I will never, ever forget that feeling — the first time I held my son in my arms. Holy cow. The amount of love that poured into every crevice of my being was so full, so complete, it felt like it filled even the parts of me that no MRI or X-ray could ever detect. I didn’t even know those parts existed until that moment. And then, when I had my second son, that same wave of love came crashing in all over again — this deep, unexplainable, infinite kind of love.

But alongside that all-consuming love, something else began to creep in.

Fear.

A fear so visceral and vivid that it grabs hold of your mind and plays out the worst possible scenarios like some terrifying movie reel. I swear, the places your mind can go once you become responsible for another life are unreal. I often think, “Wow, if I had this level of cautious thinking in my younger years, I probably would’ve saved myself a few close calls.” But hey, hindsight’s 20/20, right?

Still, this fear — this intense, haunting sense of worry — sticks with you. It transforms everyday objects and moments into danger zones. Corners. Stairs. The tiny crack in the sidewalk. All of them suddenly feel like gateways to disaster. ER visits become the best-case scenario in your imagination. It’s like your heart never fully settles. Ever.

I remember the first dinner party we hosted after our son was born. Yes, I said dinner party — because suddenly, I was a mom and, therefore, a full-blown grown-up. One of our guests, a fellow mom and friend who had kids already in high school and college, asked me how I was doing.

I finally let the mask slip and said, “It’s literally the most wonderful thing in the world, but I can’t stop worrying all the time. I keep trying to figure out how to protect him from everything.”

She nodded and smiled, so kindly, so knowingly.

Then I asked, “Does it ever go away?”

She chuckled softly and replied, “No, it only gets worse.”

And here I am, years later, nodding right back at her wisdom.

She wasn’t being dramatic — she was being honest. It doesn’t go away. If anything, it grows. Because they grow. The dangers get bigger, the risks scarier and the stakes feel impossibly high.

Those corners and stairs that once seemed so terrifying now seem relatively manageable — a bump, a bruise, maybe a bandage.

The night before I left for Poland — an incredible opportunity I’m so grateful for — my mom stopped by to say goodbye. Tears welled in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around me and whispered, “I love you. Have the best time.”

And I knew. I knew exactly what she was feeling. I was doing to her what my boys often do to me as they grow. Whether she realized it or not, she was teaching me something (as she usually does).

No matter how old your baby is — whether they’re in a crib, behind the wheel or hopping on a plane well into their forties — that feeling never fades.

And maybe the biggest lesson of all? As hard as it is, we’ve got to get behind them when they step into their growth — even when all we can think about are all the bad things that could happen.

Mother, author, entrepreneur and founder of Dandelion-Inc, Lisa Resnick wants to hear your story. Share memories with her by emailing lisa@dandelion-inc.com.