I’ve lived in Southern California my whole life.

I have a vivid memory of standing in my kitchen, reaching up to the now long gone offensively yellow formica counter tops, stirring chocolate milk in the small plastic cup with the brown teddy bear wearing a red bow tie.

I have a less vivid memory of sleeping through the Northridge quakes.

But earthquakes have always been a part of my life’s landscape. I’m used to my animals being jittery, the swaying of the chandelier in the dining room, and the panic mixed with a strange feeling of excitement.

I’ve had countless discussions with folks that live with tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards – all phenomenon I’m glad to be safe from – and many of them speak of earthquakes with a cautious terror in their voice. A terror that I never understood….I always saw earthquakes as such minor events. They’d never caused me or my family any large inconvenience outside of an interrupted nights sleep or a spilled glass of milk.

Perhaps this was just the innocent perspective of a child.

Perhaps this was the thought of someone surrounded by family.

Perhaps this was the instinct of someone that didn’t have anyone to be there for.

I don’t know what’s changed – but suddenly? Earthquakes scare the shit out of me.

We had an earthquake recently – and even that didn’t frighten me. I was in the apartment, Husker rushed to my aide to ensure my safety and be a protector, and I laughed the earthquake off – sure, as usual, that he was overreacting.

In the aftermath, I called my Mother. I talked to my Father. And, in a first, I instinctually emailed Dee to check on her and Cupcake. Now, this isn’t about adoption – so I’m still good for my Friday “rule” – but it’s about being a Mother. I had a Motherly instinct to check on my daughter – and it couldn’t be settled. I needed to know that they were all right.

That night, I went to bed feeling safe. I wasn’t scared of another quake. I wasn’t worried about what I would do. I wasn’t concerned with the state of the ground below me.

But now? I feel the aftershocks that don’t exist and I get a pang of fear in my chest. My apartment shakes if someone comes up the stairs on heavy feet – leaving me momentarily breathless as I wonder if this is another quake. I pause when I hear a rumble – though it may just be a motorcycle revving up in the street.

I’ve never had this fear – and I don’t like the way it’s captured me.

And okay, I’m going to break my rule here, but I never heard back from Dee since that night…..I know they’re okay – the earthquake was much closer to me than to them, and there was no serious damage reported anywhere, let alone in their area. But the only thing that I can figure is that I need her to help me let go of that fear that I held for my daughter on that night just after our visit.

These are the things they don’t tell you about when you become a Mom.