Thank you so much for your stories about The Fall. As horrible as it sounds, it’s really reassuring to hear other stories about what’s happened with your children. (*ahem* Joovy, I’m still waiting to hear from you though!)
When Carter was about five or six months old and just begun moving around on his own I didn’t think much about resting him on our bed as I got ready in the morning afternoon. I have a sliding glass door on my closet and I have full view of my bed while I apply my make-up. Well, apparently my view wasn’t as clear as I thought because I saw Carter squirm a little, not realizing just how close he was to the edge of the bed, I didn’t react. Not until I turned around did I realize that he was on the verge of falling; and that he did, head first to the hardwood below.
Our bed is rather high - about hip height, and I’m 5′7″, so I’m guessing it’s maybe about three feet from the ground. THUD! He didn’t wail until I scooped him up and cuddled him, expecting for anything broken or damaged. My heart would have burst up through my throat had I not swallowed it down. I’ve never felt guilt so intense, not until The Fall.
When having children, we sign that unwritten, unspoken contract that we will forever protect them from harm. We will save them embarrassment and we will do everything in our power to prevent tears and shame. We will teach our children values, responsibility and manners. We will lead by example and our unconditional love for them will never falter. As a parent, we will never harm our children nor allow them harm at the hands of another.
Forget making sure there’s food on the table, shelter over their heads and clothes on their back, (Okay, well don’t because that’s extremely important as well) but we’ve resigned ourselves to failure. We will not be able to stop embarrassment. We cannot keep them from harm forever and we will unintentionally, maybe even unknowingly, cause them pain sometime throughout their lives.
The parenting gig ain’t what it’s all cracked up to be. Ya, babies are cute, but the moral, emotional and physical obligation to each child we conceive and rear is unfathomable. While Carter was growing in my womb, my first thoughts were not of how I was going to mold and create this child into the person he will become. I did not think about how my actions and words would be absorbed and eventually used by a child that is ultimately, a reflection of me.
Before having children I had envisioned just how I would raise them. I would be ‘normal’. I wouldn’t change who I am, how I talk or what I talk about for the sake of my child. I figured they would learn anyway, and I would rather it be me (or Mike) that taught them.
I never fully baby-proofed while Carter was younger. My intentions, though pure, may have been made out of laziness rather then intelligence. Our glass coffee table was only removed from the living room after Carter climbed on top of it - not once, not twice but four times. Each time threatening to fall through the glass with each step or even jump off the table.
I never put glass vases or picture frames out of reach. I preferred to re-direct and teach them that they were not for little hands to touch. For the most part, I think we were very successful.
Until one thing that I’ve said I wouldn’t do came back and bit me in the ass.
I said I would never tie down a piece of furniture, instead I would teach my child that televisions are not for climbing; we do not climb our dresser drawers.
(You know where this is going, don’t you?)
I never anticipated what additional child proofing would be required for a toddler.
A toddler with an infant brother who is very time consuming.
A toddler that would be very independent and wish to dress himself.
A toddler that would climb that dresser to get to his underwear drawer.
That very toddler who lives in this house and pulled over his dresser trying to get to his underwear drawer.
*the tears are stinging as I write this*
THANK GOD he wasn’t hurt. THANK GOD he was off to the side (like a ladder) and not at the very front because not only would he have been pinned below a dresser but also against the bed, which could have been extremely dangerous.
If not deadly.
With these ‘accidents’ we’ve had over the past week and a half: The Fall, hitting his head on the ceramics, and now this dresser, I can’t help but feel I’m screwing up. I can’t help but feel that I am a shitty parent.
Okay, it’s been a rough week. I digress.
But it’s hard. It’s fuckin’ hard. How can I be everywhere and protect him from everything? How do I protect my heart that innocently lives outside my body?
Both my hearts.
Though Hudson is very small, he’s already experienced pain because of my thoughtlessness. My disregard for the possible dangers, though I know they exist.
Even though it’s a distant memory for them both already, it’s eating me up. The astounding guilt I feel for failing them.
Failing to protect my hearts.
