I’ve been scared before. Not really scared, but enough that I felt uncomfortable. That’s probably a more accurate word, truth be told; uncomfortable. These days, however, my life is one big ball of fear. The constant terror that something is going to happen to my boys.
The first time I left the house with them (not counting coming home from the hospital) was to talk to the university and then to town. I was still a bit sore from the c-section and walking very carefully so as not to hurt my stomach. All I could think of was how loud the traffic was and how many bugs were in the air and the smog from the cars and how crazy the drivers are and in general how terribly dangerous the entire world is. All of it! A nightmare of awful things out there to hurt my boys.
Since then I’ve become used to using the pram and pushing them around, but I’m constantly alert for all the dangers that are rife in the world. I can’t help it. I suppose its natural. I’ve stopped worrying about myself though; that’s the odd part. Or at least I’m not concerned about myself until my getting hurt means I can’t take care of the boys. That’s all I care about now; keeping them safe, warm, fed and loved. I never, in a million years would have imagined that I could adjust the things that frighten me so suddenly and so completely.
A colleague at work once said that having a child is like agreeing to have your heart walking around outside your body. I’m inclined to agree with her. Every time I look at these boys my heart twists in a really savage way, either with love, or with terror that something might happen to them. I hear news stories about people who have lost their babies or others who have lost a child… everything in me writhes in agony at the thought. Hell, the worst possible thing that could happen to me would be something happening to my boys and for the first time in my life I understand.
I understand why Mum looked so concerned when she left me at uni for the very first time. I understand why Dad has been subtly suggesting that I move back to London ever since I finished uni. They want that part of their heart closer to them where they can see and look after it. Never in a million years did I ever believe I could feel that way about anybody. But I do. And therein lies the fear.
Yesterday, when we were coming home, a fly landed on Michael’s face as we were pushing the pram along. I freaked out and stopped so I could pluck it off his face. I’ve never done that before. Not even when an insect landed on me, because I don’t like to touch them. I hate their squidgy little bodies and just the ick-factor that surrounds insects. I pulled that thing off his face like it was nothing.
Makes me wonder how I’ll deal with a spider on either of them. I have a REAL problem with spiders, but that may well be outweighed by how much I want to protect the boys. o.O
I’ll get back to you on that one if it comes up.
Writing: A Conversation Without Interruptions 