Several friends I know are going to be mothers soon for the first time. Pregnancy is a fantastic, emotion-filled journey that results in a miracle that changes everything. Life revs up and takes off in a motion you have to hold your hate on for -- one that baffles, tests, enraptures, overwhelms and is all-encompassing. At some point, while waiting for the arrival of a first baby, the inevitable strikes in the form of a stark, light-bulb question: "What if I'm not a good parent?" This dawns on expectant parents, piercing like a bolt of lightning. I remember my best friend, Patty, really struggled with this when she was pregnant with her first daughter, Genevieve. It didn't help that Patty suffered from depression during her pregnancy -- thankfully, it disappeared after Genevieve was born -- but she literally felt like she was ill-equipped to be a mother, and she would sob about it, even while wanting the baby so much.

"What if I don't handle it right?" she's ask.

"What if my child grows up to hate me?"

"What if he takes drugs?"

"What if, what if, what if ... " If you let "what ifs" take over, you'll miss everything that's of-the-moment, and you will be ill-equipped. You can't raise kids and try to avoid problems at the same time. Kids are problems ... but they're good problems ... they're like math. They need figuring out ... they practically scream it at you every day starting in the delivery room: "Figure me out!" But what kind of guideline can I share with you? Well, as a dear, old friend once said to me, "Susan, there's only one way, and that's the right way!"

I also remember my mother saying that "all you need is love" when it comes to children. John Lennon made that phrase famous, but love is not all waving arms and flower power, and it's not just hugs and kisses, either. Love is absolutely everything, and you have to figure out how to work with it. Everything? Yes, love is found in conflicts and secrets, disillusionment and despair. There are tears of sorrow and tears of joy. Raising kids can probably be equated to surfing a big, beautiful wave ... it's filled with peril, but more than that, it's incredible.

I'm no expert. When it comes to kids, I'm a regular parent. I can lose it when things get out of line. I lay awake at night trying to figure out the right thing to do for my kids. Sometimes things are comically clear: One, I'm not the first person who's ever raised children. Two, try as I might to do things differently from the people who raised me, the things I promised not to say like my mother did somehow have found their way into my language.

We can be thankful that we are mammals! That our instincts kick-in when we give birth to our young. As our babies grow, we know what is needed and when and then, once they're older, we look back wistfully to a warn and fuzzy memory known as infancy. Older kids are more difficult than babies -- that's when parents should fret about whether they're going things right or not -- but we've always got a blueprint of experience to fall back on.

A blueprint? Yes -- the keener aspects of mothering or fathering that you received from those who raised you. I picked up a radar-like truth detector from my mother. She also taught me the healing power of a hug after a scolding. My father showed me that quietly discussing a matter behind a closed door is infinitely more fruitful than yelling about it in the open. And so much more.

It's simple. Love, instincts, a blueprint. You have them all ... use 'em!