A Safe Place

Safety is a big topic these days and the fear of harm coming to your child begins at pregnancy and continues on...well to the end I imagine. When I was pregnant, I remember the constant disappointment of discovering new things that I couldn't eat. I was enjoying a chocolate mousse one day and was told (with huge alarm) that there was raw egg in it which I shouldn't eat. I'll never forget looking down and seeing the decorative cream still intact. Luckily, someone was willing to swap for a fruity, strudely thing which I quickly ate before any lectures on the dangers of pastry could arise. My poor food choices mixed with my occasional (completely guilt ridden) half a glass of wine, meant great relief was felt when our baby finally arrived a picture of health.

After the birth, our next safety concern (besides me accidentally dropping/drowning the baby) was SIDS. The amount of handouts and information I received on this topic had me utterly convinced that each time I went to check on my baby, I would find him dead. Even after four months, I still go into his room during naps and sleeps to check that he is breathing. Unexpected long sleep periods at night should be a chance to catch up on some rest, instead, I wake in a panic (and with engorged breasts) and rush down to the hall, ready to begin resuscitation. I have no doubt that safe sleep education has been key to the 85% decrease in deaths over the last 20 years and whilst I'm grateful for the knowledge and the small amount of control I feel over this one threat to my child, the constant reminders make for many worries.

Of course, there is always something new to worry about. A few weeks ago my Mother's Group had a session on safety which I walked away from in a state of shock. That evening when my husband came home from work I announced that we would need to move house. When he didn't react, I went on to explain that there were far too many dangers to our son in our current home and a simple home of 4 padded white walls was the only way I was ever going to be able to sleep again. My ever patient (and annoyingly rational) husband waited for me to explain, so I gave him the safety talk. I told him horror stories of kids falling into dishwashers and impaling themselves on knives. I told him about the drownings in nappy buckets. I told him that babies were hanging themselves from change table safety straps. Yes, safety straps, designed for their safety! I also told him that the power balls in dishwashing tablets fall out all the time and are eaten by innocent children who think they are lollies. These balls burn through their esophagus and the few that survive are fed via tubes. When I didn't get the desired response, I told him we currently use those exact Power Ball tablets (he'd know this if he ever put the dishwasher on - but I must not digress). This actually got me wondering why we are washing our dishes with this product at all? I've been blinded by the dazzling sparkle of my wine glasses for too long.

At the end of the Safety session the Health Nurse showed us an entire plastic tub of safety bits and pieces. She told us to go home and crawl around on the floor (sober, oh how I've grown) to see what changes were needed. This is when I realised it might be easier to sell and start fresh. The only items missing from our dangerous, war zone of a house, were loaded firearms scattered on the floor and a few grenades in the cupboards. We seriously have some safety work ahead of us. In the meantime, I have instructed our son not to reach any new developmental milestones that might endanger him. Rolling, crawling and walking are strictly prohibited until our house is disarmed or Daddy agrees to move us to the padded white room.

The reality is that we have years of safety worries ahead us. Safety when riding bikes and scooters, safe crossing of roads, safe driving of cars and lets not forget safe sex (from the age of 30, to an approved partner). It's too stressful to think that far ahead, so for now I'll mourn the loss of my chocolate mousse and try to remember to close the dishwasher door properly.