When my daughter was a few months old, one night I lay down in the bed (no doubt exhausted but some how one forgets that) and listened to her breathing. The sound of her breathing made me think of SIDS and I realized I was looking forward to her being one year old when I could stop worrying about SIDS. I had the assumption that I'd then be, you know, done with worrying.
Having worried about walking, talking, using the potty, running, climbing, painting and reading, I even now find myself looking at older parents calmly discussing with their 13 year old what supplies need to be bought for the science project or what phoning protocol will work for the child to take the train some where with friends, and I find myself envying what looks like a worry free interaction. I think, "Well, first graders are still getting used to the big world full of our human flaws, but soon we'll be past that."
In college, a very good friend's father once drove us back to school for finals week. One of us asked at his father at what age life gets simpler. I guess all the studying and uncertainty about our future and so forth were weighing on our minds. My friend's father just laughed and laughed and laughed.
I can see now that there was really no other answer. And it does feel like my own mother does worry about me and my well-being. How much more subtle the threats she must worry about compared to my worries about the wily mean first graders making fun of my daughter, or her feelings getting hurt from the unfairness having a two year old sibling around, or my worries about my son's lingering sickness and renewed fever. Although my mom does worry about my getting enough to eat, which feels a bit re-assuring to me.
I guess there is no end to worry, except the end of life. Will my kids find it a bit familiar to be worried over when they are out in the world? I can only hope so. Will I still be worrying about mean people and sickness? I bet so.
I'm not sure that ever people will be on the whole kind. Perhaps one day she'll get a thicker skin, or I will get a thicker vicarious-skin.
I hope things get better for your daughter. I remember a lot of intrigue among the girls in my son's nursery school class (none of which he was in the least aware of). I couldn't believe it started so young.