Forgotten Sleep

At least that’s what it looks like at this point. For the last hour or so, every news outlet across the country has been broadcasting and posting online updates about a home-made helium balloon-aircraft that possibly carried a 6-year-old boy who, according to a sibling, untied the balloon, then climbed inside and floated away. The major concern here — other than such a small child being alone in a flying balloon — was that the door to the balloon wasn’t locked, making it quite possible that the child could fall out.

The latest CNN breaking news report said that the balloon has landed, and it’s empty. Hopefully, the kids are playing a joke on their parents, and the little boy is just hiding in the bushes somewhere waiting to yell “Surprise!” But the parent in me is in a state of panic for this mother and father. I can’t even imagine the terror that I would feel if I knew that my child was in such mortal danger. We don’t often think of 6-year-old children as being the kids we have to keep the closest eye on. They aren’t going to drink the Drano. They aren’t going to stick their fingers in the electric sockets. But, we sometimes forget that they are at the age where they can do a lot more independently, and the thrill of riding in Mom and Dad’s balloon would be too tempting to ignore.

In my capacity as mother, I will admit that I have done things that have resulted in my kids getting slightly hurt. Not blowing on the food on the fork long enough has led to more burned tongues that I want to admit. Being unable to control a squirmy child to cut the fingernails has resulted in microscopic nicks. The guilt that I have felt over these minor accidents has been overwhelming. I can only imagine the agony I would feel knowing that I had played a role in the serious injury or, God forbid, loss of one of my children.

Let me be clear: I am in no way blaming these parents for what their son did and for the consequences that will be playing out shortly. I am merely saying that, as a mother, I know that I would second-guess myself and blame myself for the rest of my life. I would wonder if I could have tied the balloon to the house tighter so a child couldn’t undo it. I would wonder if perhaps we should’ve been constructing the balloon somewhere away from our home. Should I have made sure that my kids weren’t playing outside unsupervised since the balloon might have been a temptation?

I have no doubt that any one of us could find ourselves in a position similar to this. So often, we think we’ve taken all the necessary precautions, and there’s always that one little thing that we’ve ignored or forgotten that pops up to bite us. It’s also so easy to grow accustomed to our childrens’ ability to do things for themselves that we fall into a state of comfort that isn’t always safe. That harsh reality hit me cold in the face when Big Girl fell down the stairs after having navigated them successfully many times.

My heart breaks for these parents, and it goes out to them full speed. Their lives will, no doubt, be forever tormented by this tragedy, not only because they will have lost a beloved child, but also because they will always ask themselves if they could have prevented it in some way.

All ghosts haunt us, but the ghosts of uncertainty and unanswered questions are often the most frightening of all.