Yesterday, I lived my worst nightmare.
I fell over in the road holding onto my little girl’s hand.
I always have this moment where I know I’m about to fall, so try and prepare my body for the impact. I remember clinging to Squidge’s little hand and praying to God she didn’t fall too. I hit the road with a thump – it still really hurts to sit down – and heard this panicked shriek of “Mummy!”
I immediately folded my body around my little girl, guiding her to the kerb. She’d fallen with me too. I’d struggled too much to keep up with her eager little step and pulled her down. But even in that confusion, she didn’t cry. We’d be walking round the corner to playgroup and were literally one kerb away from the door.
Another of the mums saw me fall and came running over to make sure we were OK. I’d barely even registered that it was me that had fallen, or how much pain I was in. I just folded myself round Squidge, told her we were OK. Because that was what she needed to know. She wasn’t crying from her own pain. The very first thing she did was look back for me – she didn’t even let go of my hand on impact.
My little girl is a star. This was out first fall. I felt so guilty, have always dreaded the first day that this would happen and wondered how she would cope with the realisation that Mummy cannot always keep her safe. But I’m proud to say my instinct was to do just that – and that it seems Squidge’s was the exact same.