I am very religious. If you have read my blog with any consistency at all, this should come as no surprise.
Several years ago, I was given a promise that angels would hover over me and my family. That we would be protected. I believed it then. And then I became a mother.
I know it now.
I know that my children have been protected. What other explanation could there be? Especially considering the fact that W~ is still with me. At the age of three, he has already had several instances where he could have very easily been dead. This weekend, we got to add another to the list.
My brother and his family moved into a new house on Saturday. We all went up to help with the move. Near the end of the day, men arrived to deliver a new microwave and refrigerator. Not wanting any of the twelve children present to get underfoot while the refrigerator was being carried in, we told all of the mobile ones to go play in the basement for a bit. They all headed down. As the men were getting the refrigerator out of the truck, I went over to close the basement door so it wouldn’t block their path. I saw what no mother ever should.
As best as I can guess, W~ must have decided that, instead of walking all the way down the steps, he would slide through the back of them (no back on the steps). He made this decision pretty high up. His whole body made it through. He was hanging by his head.
It still freaks me out, just writing it down. He had his arms wrapped around the step, trying to support his weight. I ran down and started trying to pull him out, but the angle he was at (pretty much face-up) made it too hard. I was yelling at the kids to get under him and push up on his legs. My brother-in-law heard me and came running. He got there right after I managed to grab W’s shorts and pull his weight up that way. Between the two of us, we got him out.
He was, miraculously, fine. I just sat and shook. Hard.
As we spent time at my sister’s house yesterday, don’t think that I wasn’t freaked out every time I didn’t see him (she has a pond, folks). Being home today, it made me nervous every time they went out to play. I know I have to move on. But accidents just seem to follow this kid. I’ve not had any near-death experiences with any of my other kids. I have, in the past, been accused of being overly-protective of my kids. This doesn’t happen because I don’t pay attention. The kid is alive because I pay attention.
I really hope he develops better judgement soon. A healthy understanding of his own mortality would be nice, too.
Until then, please God, make those angel work overtime. I’ve got a kid who needs an angelic entourage.