This presupposes that your child will actually survive that long.
There's so many things out there to keep you frightened. For instance, this last week, even though nothing has changed, I have suddenly found myself checking on Lex several times a day to make sure he's still breathing.
I still remember taking off Lex's sleepsuit only to find that during the night a single 3cm long hair had wrapped around his middle toe, cutting into it deeply enough that the end of the toe had turned a reddy-purple colour and had swollen to twice it's size. The crease in his toe has finally faded.
And then there's all the other stuff...
- Sheets and blankets have a life of their own and they like to smother babies.
- Keep the pets away, dogs will eat your baby, cats will steal their breath, the mongoose will mistake it for a cobra!
- The first time you don't have your child strapped down on the change table, it will roll off and hit the floor with an audible thud!
- The first time you fail to take your baby out of the car seat and carry it in with you while you pay for petrol, that is when there will be some baby stealing psycho nearby who will pinch your kiddie and bring them up to be the sort of person who enjoys watching reality TV.
All this is before your kid has independent movement.
The best description I can give you is not one of my own, but comes from Jeff Vogel's book, The Poo Bomb.
"I know now that I did not truly understand terror until I got myself in a
position where I loved someone who thought staples were food."