I have this irrational fear regarding my children. Only one, mind you. But it provides me with endless opportunities to be fearful and get lost in my wild and terrifying imaginary scenes and situations ..... and provides the Rooster with just as many opportunities to giggle, laugh, point and grin at me as I sit in my seat in the car, quivering with fear with my eyes tightly closed.
I am just so fearful that, should a bridge collapse beneath us, I would not be able to rescue all my children. Even if I COULD get them all out of their carseats, I'd never be able to keep them all afloat. They would drown. And I would not. And I would not be able to ever forgive myself for loosing any of them.
(I did say it was irrational!)
And I go to extraordinary lengths to avoid a situation where this might become a possibility! I avoid bridges wherever possible. I get lost in the City regularly because I deliberately take routes I do not know so I can avoid a bridge I do know! I do not get caught up in inner city traffic on the way to the airport because I want to avoid the tolls on the direct route - I do so to avoid the really really HIGH bridge between here and there! And if the Rooster is driving and we do cross a bridge, I close my eyes and pretend it isn't happening!
Recently we have been taking some trips to the City to see a travel doctor for vaccinations. Rather than park close to the medical centre (where, I might add, I recently discovered the parking heights are significantly LESS than the height of our People Mover!) I prefer to park a good half hour walk away, so we can cross the river on foot rather than in the car. Because, you know, falling many metres into the river below with 6 children will be so much easier to manage if we're not in the car, right?!
On one such trip I thought I'd take the opportunity, whilst crossing the bridge, to ease my fears a little and reassure that the money we're spending on swimming lessons is indeed worth it. I figured perhaps a little confidence could be found if I was able to ascertain just how strong my children were at life-saving skills. A certain level of peace could be reached if I could hear my children confirm, in their own words, that they would be able to contribute in some way to their own rescue, should such a need arise.
So I quietly asked the Rabbit what he'd do if he accidentally fell into the river below us or fell off a boat or something similar. He took a quick look down and told me he could float. Preferably on his stomach, but he'd do it on his back if he had to, because you could at least breath on your back. And that he'd been practising floating on his back and could do it for a considerable length of time if necessary.
I felt a weight begin to lift from my shoulders already. He even felt confident enough to swim to shore, and said he had learnt how to rescue another person, so he could carry someone with him. Bless his little heart - perhaps he saw the fear in my eyes as we set foot on the bridge, but his words were a soothing salve to my soul.
So I moved on to the Honey Girl. Knowing she was not as confident or able as the Rabbit, I thought I could at least be reassured that she could float for a short while and be calm if/when she hit the water. Could swim up to the surface.
I asked her the same question as I did the Rabbit.
The Honey Girl did not pause for even a moment to evaluate her skills or contemplate the question or a possible solution.
She promptly responded with "I'd walk on the water, to the edge. Jesus did it, so can I".
Right. Well. Who am I to dash her childhood fantasies? It's likely she'd survive on sheer will alone. Just flatly refuse to drown. And grab hold of something solid and never let it go.
I realised this was actually working. My fears were being eased by my childrens' affirmations of their skills and confidence. I was working through my irrational fear of my children drowning and they were walking through it with me. My delightful offspring were playing an active role in my healing and in my finding a sense of peace. One more affirmation and I'd be almost cured!
And we had enough bridge-walking time for one more candidate, so I confidently and firmly approached Pants, with a spring in my step and nary a quiver in my voice. And posed the same question again - if he found himself in deep water, like the river we were crossing, what would he do?
He looked at me with a puzzled expression, obviously thinking his mum had finally lost those three remaining braincells that had survived after 6 rounds of placenta-brain, nappy-brain and so on, and replied "I'd drown".
You'll be relieved to know my irrational fear is as alive and thriving as ever again!
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