I like to think that I have nerves of steel and can handle stressful situations like a pro. I thrive under pressure and I am at my best when there is a lot on the line.
However, once the tense moments pass, reality hits and I’m a bucket of anxiety. My mind goes into over drive thinking of all the things that could or probably should have happened.
Brooklynn is an adrenaline junky like me. She loves to be thrown in the air and pushed as fast as possible on her bike. On Canada Day, we were playing on the climbers at the park and, as usual, she ran straight for the highest platform excited to fly down the biggest slide. When a bunch of school age kids came running by, she slowly backed up to get out of the way. My heart stopped when I realized she was inching closer and closer to the edge of the platform. I began yelling at her trying to get her to stop moving, but she was too distracted by the kids to hear me. I watched as she took each slow motion step backward and was running towards her when she disappeared. She fell nearly six feet straight down onto her bum into a bed of gravel. When I reached her, she was silent. She didn’t move or cry. She sat there like a statue in total shock. Without considering that I might inflict more pain, I scooped her up and tried to cuddle her fears away.
She whimpered a bit and was breathing heavy; I think she may have knocked the wind out of herself. She looked at me with huge confused eyes as I slowly moved her legs and feet looking for signs of a break. Nothing. No scrapes, no bumps, no broken bones. Nothing. I stood her up and asked if she wanted to sit in the stroller. She said yeah and slowly walked over, waiting for a lift. Al was in panic mode looking for the medic tent but I was calm. I instantly felt like she was fine and just scared. She’s my little daredevil, strong and invincible. Forget the fall, I was ready to go find the ice cream guy and enjoy the rest of the day.
By the time we made it home, she was jumping on the couch and chasing her dad around playing zombies. She went to bed without a fuss and slept soundly through the night.
Me? Yeah, you can bet that I didn’t sleep. When the house was quiet and my mind had time to process the day, I fell into a downward spiral. I spent hours googling broken tailbones, spinal fractures and everything under the sun that probably didn’t happen. I kept replaying the moment she dropped off the platform, instantly out of sight. That moment my heart stopped and the air evaporated from my lungs. She could have fallen face forward, broken her wrists and smashed her face. She could have hit her chin on the way down and broke her jaw. She could have gotten her leg caught in the chain link ladder and really done some damage. So many horrible things could have happened and her life could have be changed in a blink of an eye.
But they didn’t. Nothing happened. By some miracle, she fell like a champ and brushed it off. Her 25lb rubbery little body is totally fine. She had an accident. She is fine and life goes on. I know kids fall and they are bound to get hurt eventually but for now, lets just take slow walks and play on pillows. Mommy’s heart needs a break and my melodramatic brain needs to chill the frik out.