No secret that I am a little on the paranoid side.
At first glance I may appear like a relaxed mom, lounging with a large glass of Chenin, whilst her kids play in the distance. But this is all an illusion of being relaxed and a no care attitude I like to exhibit!
The first sign that all was not well, in my brain, was when I started to develop a phobia about leaving the house with Connor.
This was when he was about 12 – 18 months old. It did not get better, it got worse each day, and each outing made it more and more excruitiating to go out.
It eventually got a point where I just could not go out with him – it was too stressful for me. I would rather remain at home. Safely at home.
I kept seeing the amount of ways he was going to die. (notice it was not that he might die, it was an inevitable happening…)
I never felt he was going to go missing at the wall, I always felt he was going to be snatched by someone. And be gone. Forever.
He was never going to trip and fall, he was going to trip, fall, shatter his skull and die.
He did not balance on a small brick walkway. In my mind, he fell. His face broke his fall, and his grey matter was spilt all over the crazy paving. And then he would die.
I would love to tell you that now I am a no-worries parent. The reality is what you see is a facade as I nod in the general direction of my kids going “don’t worry, they will be fine.”
I still prefer not to go out with my kids, it is too stressful. The screaming and fighting makes me want to kill them, personally. The constant “threat of death” from other avenues, other than me, is actually too much to bear.
We have a pine tree in our backyard, it is about 2 storeys high.
Connor loves to climb trees. Boys climb trees – Kennith assures me. Every time Connor climbs that tree I quietly stand and wait for him to fall and break his neck, or split his skull open. It is not a case of if, it is a case of when. There is a large stone under the tree. In my mind’s eye he always fell and hit his head on that rock.
It is winter, so I get a respite from tree climbing and the related stress that is associated with it. In summer it is all tree climbing, diving in to the pool (excuse me whilst I throw up from worry) and other rather adventurous activities. In terms of rough and tumble, girls are far less stressful.
The most I can expect from Georgia … actually never mind, she did fall off a very low brick walkway to smack her mouth and her teeth to kingdom come, so please scratch that.
On Monday Priveledge said that her nephew fell out of a tree. He fell from the tree onto gravel and hit the surface hard with his head taking the brunt of the force.
The little boy could not regain consciousness and he was taken to the hospital. The hospital said that his injuries were so severe that he may never wake, and if he did he would be seriously mentally effected (not from waking, but clearly from falling….)
The family held out hope, though there was very little to cling to.
Yesterday morning a 10-year-old boy died in Paarl, from a head injury from a tree that he climbed often.
My son is 10 years old.
The problem with paranoia is that when it is confirmed by real life, then you realise that maybe you actually weren’t over reacting.
I feel so very ill today and the thought of the pain that Priveledge’s family must be going through. All because “boys climb trees” and sometimes “boys fall out of trees.”