As a parent, I have spent years being afraid. Too much of my parenting was driven by fear—shaping my decisions, tightening my grip, and setting the emotional thermostat of our home.
I didn’t know how to stop being afraid, because the things other parents only worried might happen?
They were actually happening to our child… and to us.
Every time I thought, “I’m not sure he can stay regulated enough to do this activity,” and then got the call to come pick him up early—it felt like confirmation that fear deserved the steering wheel.
But fear-driven parenting comes with a cost. It can make us controlling. And control is always rooted in fear. If there’s one truth about parenting—especially trauma-informed parenting—that we rarely say out loud, it’s this:
Fear always shows up wherever love lives.
We fear losing what we love. We fear harm coming to what matters most. We fear the things we would give anything to protect.
That’s why parenting a trauma-impacted child carries a level of fear many will never understand. Not because we’re anxious or dramatic— but because the stakes feel higher, the risks feel sharper, and the love runs unbelievably deep. This fear isn’t a flaw. It’s evidence of attachment.











