Too real to deal

I mentioned in my previous post something about me having fears, being anxious, glass half-empty kind of person, right?  If you didn't read it, that's ok, because I said all of that. So there are many times where I look around at other people (parents) and see that they seem aware but not hyper-vigilant. They seem calm and relaxed and not really worried. And maybe I seem that way to some on the outside (I really doubt it) but I promise you I'm not often calm and relaxed...especially recently as a non-runner. 

I'm not so much a "helicopter" parent as I am a "rescue boat in the waiting" kind of parent. 

Well, this weekend, one of my worst fears as a parent (really as a person, because it can happen to anyone) came true.  And I couldn't sleep last night and I've been on the verge of a panic attack all day, and all of a sudden tears just start pouring out of my eyes with no warning. 

My little guy, Aaron, got pulled out by a rip current in the ocean on Sunday, so far and so fast, and I ran out before I even knew what it was that I was doing and I saved him. It was as dramatic as it sounds and I don't yet know how to process the whole thing.  I'm traumatized. I'm terrified. I'm angry that it happened. I'm grateful he's ok. 

We were in Dewey and it was finally decent weather after a rainy day on Saturday. These are my boys on Sunday, in the picture above. The little one on the left, older one on the right. It was somewhat shallow at that time in the morning. They are both strong swimmers and have no fear of getting pummeled by waves. Of course I've told them many times that it's not the waves that are scary, it's the rip currents. We've talked about swimming parallel to the beach, we sit next to the lifeguard so they have a reference point when they are out there, and we give all of the "how to be careful in the ocean" advice a parent can give. 

This is the first summer that I have actually sat down when they are in the ocean, and I am not standing right at the shore line watching like a hawk. Partly because my knee hurts, partly because they look so strong in the ocean, I feel like I can "relax" a little and sit. 

On Sunday the waves were getting bigger and I saw my kids' and my nephew's head one second and the next second I saw Aaron way north and way out from the shoreline. I said out loud "that can't be Aaron" as I looked over and only saw two heads where there were previously three. And I ran and jumped into the water and the closer I got I could see him trying to swim and getting pulled further out. He looked terrified and was going under because he was tired. I yelled for him to stop swimming and I would get him and I would be there soon. He looked terrified and I cannot get the look on his face out of my mind. Watching him go under was the worst feeling and I could barely touch the bottom anymore. I felt the pull of the current and worried that I wouldn't be able to get us back in. Once I got his arm I just pulled as hard as I could toward the shore.

This sounds like it took an eternity but it was minutes. If that. 

My dad had run after me and he said he was yelling my name but I don't even know that I heard anything the whole time. I was SO focused on getting to Aaron.  My dad helped us get to our feet at the shoreline and I couldn't breathe. I was in total panic mode and hyperventilating. I hugged Aaron so hard and he said he was sorry for going so far out and thanked me for coming to get him. 

I don't think my heart has beat normally since then. 

How do you let your guard down and relax when this shit keeps happening?  How do I not have anxiety and panic over anything he does. I have been through so much with my little guy, from early pregnancy until now. Ambulance rides and emergency surgeries and hospitalizations and injuries and close calls and just so much stuff. 

I wish I could just go to a place where I say "thank God I was there and saved him. Good job mom." 

Nope. 

I go to, "what else? What else will happen?" Because really this was the scariest. 

The ocean is not an illness or an accident that needs medical attention. He could have been gone forever if I hadn't paid attention for even 10 more seconds. So while I am so glad I saved him, I'm also completely terrified of everything. 

This is me holding Aaron for the first time. My pregnancy with him was scary and worrisome and I remember feeling surprised in that moment that he made it to actually being born. I didn't fall in love with him right away...I was afraid to. After being so uncertain about the outcome of my pregnancy, I really kept waiting for something to take him away from me. This fear for his well-being created a fierce sense of protectiveness as his mother that grew into an intense love. But my first feelings toward him were of being his protector.

It seems that we were matched for this very reason. I am here to protect him in every way, and in turn he teaches me that I am stronger than I ever imagined. 

But first I need to cry, and process what happened, and wrap him in bubble wrap so I can sleep again soon.