How an Alleged Murder Made Me Embrace Being a Worrier.
TW — road traffic accident, youth crime, death of an unborn child, death of young parents.
You need to hug your babies extra hard today.
I had no intention of writing about this today. In fact, in the car on the way home from the new functional dentist I’ve started seeing, I was planning my story about the dental treatment I’ve been recommended. Then the news came on the radio, and it jolted me violently out of my thoughts.
I rarely listen to the news. It’s not allowed in my house, and my children are forbidden from seeing or hearing it. Some may think I’m naive; I call it self-preservation and child protection. Besides, I have a deal with my husband; if something is happening in the world that I really need to know about, he will tell me.
The news story that snuck into and smashed my bubble today was that of the young woman and young man taking their dogs for a walk yesterday on a sunny public holiday in Queensland, Australia. As they crossed the road on a green walk signal, a kid of 17 years allegedly ran a red light in a stolen 4WD, collided with another car, and proceeded to plunge into them. They are both dead. One dog is alive. The other dog, Frankie, is missing. When writing this, Frankie had not been found. They assume she is dead as she is an old dog. But what really choked me while listening to this news report was that the young woman was 6 months pregnant.
I’m not interested in commenting on the kid who allegedly murdered three innocent people; A 31-year-old woman in the prime of her life, full of excited anticipation, a 37-year-old man, full of fatherly pride, and their unborn child, who was only a couple of months away from being cuddled hard by its parents. I am interested however, in commenting on how important it is to cuddle your loved ones tonight and tell them how much you love them. I’m also interested in contributing to the discussion of intuition.
Besides making me love my family even harder tonight, this awful story has shown me to listen to the niggling intuition I have about my children. Rather than silencing and shunning the words of worry that play out in my head as a parent, I will take note of them and take action regardless of how foolish I might appear.
At 5:15 pm yesterday, 15 minutes before and 20 km away from where this tragic accident occurred, we were walking our dog too. My husband, two daughters, cavoodle puppy, and I walked along the footpath in our local village when one daughter pressed the pedestrian button at the lights so that we could cross the road. The other daughter ran up beside her and waited. Both of them inching closer to the road in anticipation of the light change. Within 2 meters of where they stood waiting for the green walk sign, cars raced past doing 60km/hr.
“Move back!” I yelled. “You’re too close. You must never stand so close to the road in case a car comes off and runs into you.” All four of them looked at me, reluctantly stepping back from the kerb.
Sadly, they’ve heard this, and many other warnings of impending danger explode out of my mouth. Every time we walk on the footpath beside a road, I yell it out. I instruct my husband to stand back from the verge with my daughters. I tell him repeatedly; he’s too close to the road. I’m sure he rolls his eyes at me behind his sunglasses, but I don’t care.
“I have a bad feeling.” I apologise.
I often see visions of terrible things happening to my children, and apparently, I’m not alone.
Since becoming a mummy, my intuition always anticipates the worst possible scenario. I imagine the most severe medical tragedy. Maybe it’s because I used to work in the Emergency Department, maybe it’s because I used to work in the Intensive Care Unit, or perhaps it’s just me. I see it as a fleeting vision. I’ve spoken to police force mummies, who see fleeting images of crimes unfolding, and I’ve talked to firefighter mummies. They see fleeting pictures of potential fires raging.
I used to think it was a first responder affliction, but now I understand it’s a mummy affliction. The majority of patients I treat are women, and everyone I speak to feels the same sense of panic and worry where their children are concerned.
As I drove home from the dentist, the radio now turned off and my heart sick with grief for the 3 lives lost, I made a vow; To stop caring that I sound like a worrywart, like a silly mummy or that I’m overreacting. I don’t care anymore. I’ll keep barking out my messages of warning to those I love dearly. I’ll keep following my intuition where my babies are concerned, and once they go to sleep soundly tonight, I’ll cry for the Alexandra Hills mummy who never got the chance to embrace being a proud worrier for her baby.
*** Frankie was found this afternoon in dense bushland by a very clever dog called Hermy, who managed to track the lost dog’s scent. Frankie was dehydrated and very scared but is said to be recovering well. This small bit of good news helps a tiny bit.
