2,000 pounds of what-if's

I just registered my 5 year old for kindergarten. This is just one tormenting step in a long series of tormenting steps one must take on the road to raising children to adulthood. Im not ready.
When I was little, I witnessed two pink featherless birds fall out of their nest and land inches away from my cat (who was already chomping on the first jumper that I didn't see in time.) I scooped them up and brought them inside. I made a nest for them and used a heating pad to keep them warm. I went to the bait shop and bought a cup of worms and then to the grocery store for peaches.
I fed those two birds pieces of peach and cut up worms using the tweezers from my science set to act as a "beak". I carried them to school with me so I could feed them there, and even brought my baby birds with me to sleep overs. I set them on my finger and raised and lowered my finger to make them flap their wings for exercise.
They grew and thrived and one morning they took flight. In my room. At this point, I knew they need more than I could offer, and I called the Wildlife Society. They came and praised me on a good job, then let me know that some birds learn to fly before they learn to hunt so it was a good thing that I called them. They finished raising them and released them.
I know this is the same thing with my child. He is a wild beast right now, in essence flying around the room. And I realize he needs a little more than I can offer. Im gonna have to call in the professionals. Teachers. I need their help to mold my little beastie into a human being.
*by the way, he is licking my arm and barking at me as I type this*
But I don't want to. I don't want to let go of my baby bird.
What if my baby bird goes to school and gets picked on, or does the picking? What if something happens and Im not there? OH THE WHAT IF's!!!!!
What if he makes lots of friends and one of his good friends has non-English speaking parents and he wants to go visit his friends one day after school and I have to meet the parents first and I get there and we just stare at each other awkwardly because I dont know what to say and neither do they and then I have to turn around and take my son back home and explain to him that I cant leave him there because I don't speak their language and I don't know if they think its okay to let you run around in the street cause that's normal in their culture. No I dont know what culture thinks its ok for kids to run in street, but still!! I cant risk that, so sorry honey you cant talk to him anymore ok? WHAT IF HE GETS JUMPED INTO A GANG AT LUNCH????
Oh my gawd! I cant handle this!
Someone hand me a Valium.
And a grip.
Because I seem to have lost mine.