please walk with erasers

This is a picture of Oona that I took yesterday. In all her hot sweaty glory after filling the cats bowl of food until it resembled a mountain of Purina Care Urinary Tract Health because they're boys and apparently need to watch out with their urinary tract health. I agree with all the schmaltzy cliches you'll read about children being such a joy and that everything changes once you have children. I love Oona and Owen dearly and don't know what my life would be like without them. But I might die before they reach adulthood from a stress induced heart attack. I panic if I see any child doing something that looks dangerous to me and, yes, my idea of what constitutes danger probably encompasses a lot more than the average Mom. But yesterday Oona took years off my life.

It all started out innocently enough, I brought Owen to swimming lessons, where Oona and I wind up having to stand around for the forty-five minutes until he's done. So Oona was running around the mushroom that usually spouts water, but they refuse to turn it on until the pool officially opens at 1:00. So all the poor siblings under 6 (Owen's a week shy of 6 but I figured it was close enough) have to stand around in the sun and watch their big brothers and sisters enjoy the water. I was talking to a friend watching Oona climb onto a wooden bench and start attempting to climb onto the back. I told her no and she looked at me and complied. I was back to talking about trying to find a sitter while I take Microbiology this fall when I saw Oona fall backwards off end of the seat part of the bench. The whole thing seemed to occur in slow motion. She dropped about a foot and a half landed squarely on the top of her head and then I saw her neck bend at a horrible angle trying to bear the weight of the rest of her body before she flopped onto the ground. I'm standing fifteen feet away, watching the whole scene, powerless to stop it and I'm thinking she's going to be dead or paralyzed from that fall. I ran over to her and she was crying (not dead) but I was scared for a few seconds to pick her up after watching how she fell. My friend ran over as well, saying 'she landed right on top of her head on that cement, it's covered in foam, but she hit her head right on top of it. And I'm thinking 'stop! I saw what happened and hearing what you're saying isn't helping me right now.' It made me so angry, I just felt so helpless at that moment. But Oona needed to be comforted and I hugged her carefully, checking to make sure she could move her arms and legs without trouble. I asked her if she wanted a treat and she perked up right away, which told me that any huge crisis had probably been averted. I bought her some fruit candies and called my pediatrician's office just to make sure about what I should keep an eye out for with her fall. I couldn't stop shaking I felt so nervous after seeing what happened. I was worried that maybe she was favoring the left side of her body, that she was walking awkwardly, like I couldn't look at my daughter objectively then. Even today I worried when she took a nap at the gym (unheard of) and woke up so cranky. Sure she's been flexing her terrible two muscles but could this be a sign of traumatic brain injury?

I know rationally that she's fine but my anxiety about my children can just torture me. I keep seeing her fall but can't be sure if her head landed on the foam covered concrete or the grassy lawn, I just see the horrible bend of her neck. When Owen was just a week or two old I was sitting with him after nursing him one night in the wee hours of the morning. I was sort of sleepy, not asleep just very relaxed, when he sharply darted with his body in a way that made me feel like he was about to jump out of my arms. I hadn't been around newborns until he was born. I was unaware of those sudden lurches when they move in an exaggerated manner because they can't really control themselves at that age. He didn't fall, but my restful mother and child pose turned into me clutching my son and mourning what could have happened in a heartbeat. The horrible thing is I still think of that incident (obviously). What if I had dropped him? How could I have lived with myself? The nagging fears for my children that pick at my heart, weakening me. I want to be a mom with joie de vivre but I seem to be the mom who finds the choking hazard at the playdate.