Unexpectedly Terrified

I thought I knew fear.  I thought I knew worry.  As if life long friends lingering around the punch bowl in this party of life, I thought I knew them well.  Then he came along.  He looks up at me, curiously and trustingly.  He lets me hold him high above the ground.  Do not drop him.  Do not slip.  He opens himself up and hands me his heart and says "Here daddy.  Keep this beating."  And I do.  I try.  I do not sleep, sick with worry.  Every odd sound he makes, every spastic movement shoots me into a panic.  Fear ignites.  He's dying!  I think to myself.  He's on fire!  He's bleeding internally!  He's swallowed a piece of grit and is now dissolving from the inside out!  Crazy, I've become, so it may seem.  But his heart, it still beats; he still breaths.  He still squirms around in his swaddle.  His cry for food is the sound of relief.  He is awake.  He is alive!  So no.  I did not know fear.  I knew nothing of worry.  In this party of life, they were merely an occasional topic of conversation.  Now that he's joined the party, I can see, they have come with him.  And I feel as though I am going to get to know them very well indeed.