Dear Summer,
EMC Lifestyle - In the song Fidelity,
Regina Spektor sings “I never loved nobody fully/Always one foot on the
ground”.
Daddy says that song always reminds him of
me because at the beginning of our relationship I told him that I wouldn’t let
myself love him as much as I wanted to since I didn’t want to be completely
overcome by heartbreak if we eventually ended things. I have no recollection of
saying this, but know I probably did because it sounds like something my dramatic,
20-year-old self would have come up with.
These days, I don’t have time to
hyper-analyze every thought and feeling that lurks in my subconscious, but
something happened to you last week that reminded me of how terrifying love can
be.
Daddy and I were getting ready to take you
and the dog for a walk, as we do every evening. We had been out and about
earlier, so daddy had to take your car seat off the base of your stroller and
attach the pram. Halfway through the transition, the dog decided it was time to
start bounding around the neighbourhood, so daddy went to the edge of the
driveway to call her back, leaving the pram on top of the stroller, not fully
attached.
You can probably guess what happened next.
I brought you outside, thought the pram was ready to go, and set you down.
About a second later, you were face-down on the stone walkway, beneath the
pram, (thankfully) wailing in shock and pain. In a daze, I scooped you up,
walked across the street and thrust you into the arms of our neighbour, a
nurse. She confirmed that you had a little scratch on your head but no
concussion, and told us to keep an eye on you that night but not to worry
because you seemed just fine.
It turned out I was really, really good at
taking the first bit of advice, but terrible at the second. Even after you had
settled down and even mustered a smile or two, I worried a deep, pit-of-the-stomach
sort of worry that was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I worried
even more when it came time for you to go to sleep. What if you had internal
bleeding and the unthinkable happened while you slept? What if we woke up to find the scratch
on your forehead had turned into a throbbing, black-and-blue goose egg? What
would we do then? Needless to say, I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
Thankfully, everything seems to have turned
out fine. If I believed in miracles, I suppose I could label this situation as
such. Somehow, I don’t think you could possibly have fallen the whole two-feet
from the pram to the pavement, as you were relatively uninjured. I’m guessing
the pram must have slid down part way before flipping over. I’ll never know for
sure, since the incident remains a total blur in my mind.
I did, however, learn three very sure
things from this situation: never set the pram or car seat on the stroller
without fastening them on properly; never put you in your pram or car seat
without first making sure they are secure; and my love for you is not something
I can protect myself from. I cannot run and hide from the overwhelming
feeling of the worry that consumed me when the accident happened and the
painful guilt that still does. Nor would I want to, given the choice, for the
flip-side of a mother’s love is one of the most beautiful feelings in the
world.
I cannot learn to love you fully, as I did
with daddy; I just do, right from the start. Like diving into cold water on a 35-degree
day, it’s shocking at first, but also exactly what I need.
