And I keep looking at it, questioning it at various angles varying from realistic concern to horror and chagrin at what most certainly should be imagined visions stemming from this thing.
We visit his parents and I’m trying to put our daughter of 1 to bed upstairs in the bed I’m sharing with her. I need to use the bathroom so I leave her with him in the closed room. I’m only gone moments and I hear the pitter patter of little feet go by, then the tumbling down the stairs and screaming. Oh my God, I’m panicking, I rush to get to her.
His mother’s got her, is consoling her, but she doesn’t calm down til she’s in my arms.
How did this happen?
It’s a miracle she’s not injured, the stairs are high and steeput.
I’m talking to him later and I say how upset I am at this, I understand things happen. I’ve fallen before while she was in the harness, but there was no reason for her to even be out of bed here.
I’d thought I’d resolved this internally, but I mull it over oh fuck I’m imagining terrible things that could happen again and my fearstep resurface when I get home from work on Sunday and Im almost to her room when I hear her fall off the changing table while he’s changing her. She’s screaming and I yell, briefly but I’m yelling, because so often I’ve warned him not to let her move around the table on her own. He shows concern, remorse, and when verbally I accept and respond reasonableto but I’m afraid of the thoughts I’ve been brought to and what it could or should or if it even does mean anything about the character of the man I married.