The Decent

I cannot get the image out of my head. Flashes of his red and blue shirt, his arms reaching out for something to grab on to. His head hitting the bottom of the last step. This could have been bad, really bad. His false sense of security, as well as mine, were the only things broken. The intense fear of motherhood again rearing its ugly head.

I have said since giving birth that the experience of having a child brought a new intensity to emotions I did not know existed and a perspective beyond what I thought would be verses what is. Life is so fragile and everyday we are reminded of that by someone else's experience. A seventeen year old killed getting off of the bus, a toddler forgotten in the haste of doing too much with too little. But a sense of relief lingers there as well. My family is safe, we are all well. That won't happen to us.

I cannot describe the terror that overcame me as I watched my son tumble down the stairs while I screamed for my husband to catch him. These are the same stairs we have been saying for a week we need to gate off as the boy's confidence overshadows his ability. All it took was a turned head and a misstep for my whole world to flash before my eyes. I made a promise to myself that I would not take his safety for granted anymore. And I put up a gate.