I see danger everywhere

I am told that if you are out in the middle of the woods and see a bear, it’s probably not going to be your last day on earth. They are more scared of you than you are of them, the old saying goes. They are just looking for something to fill their huge appetite after a long hibernation. 

Unless, that is, if you happen to stumble upon a mother bear and her cubs. Ever heard the term “momma bear”? It was derived from the behavior of real momma bears. The mother so large and fierce, she can take down a male twice her size. The mother so protective, she will lay her life down so her cubs may live. The mother so giving, she gives birth while in hibernation, feeding her cubs the liquid gold of milk while she looses more than 30% of her body weight. 

If you see a mother bear and her cubs, stay very still. If a mother bear sees you, take a deep breath and prepare to be eaten alive. 

Do you think she feels the crippling anxiety of never knowing what’s around the next bend? Do you think she lies awake at night, looking at her beautiful children, terrified that she won’t be able to protect them one day? Or maybe, all her reactions are instinctive. A cause and effect based on nature and survival. See a threat, take it out. 

I asked myself these questions during one of my 3 am anxiety sessions. A cute name I have given my late night worries. 

What if, someone hurts my baby. What if, our camper catches fire. What if, there’s a tornado. What if… 

It’s exhausting. But how much of these thoughts are instinctive mechanisms to keep my progeny alive long enough to produce offspring themselves and keep the population growing? How much of these thoughts are just anxiety and bad thoughts brought to life from popular tv drama and scary movies? 

I have to believe that there is some line of thinking that is basic nature, meant to keep my children safe, always aware of dangers and problems. 

There are times where I see the hyper vigilance work for the greater good. 

Earlier this week Paul, the kids, and I went to the zoo. It was a holiday weekend and it was quite busy. Lincoln was starting his meltdown when I notice a little girl. Something was just off about her demeanor. She might be with the family in front of her, but then she turned around confused. 

I told Paul to stop, “I think that little girl is lost”. So we paused and watched her closely. I see her spin in circles a few times. Then, her lip started to quiver and she sat down on the paved walkway and started to cry. 

Paul stayed with Lincoln and Sydney as I softly walked up to her and asked her if she was lost. She was maybe 3 or 4 and with her sweet, little kid, broken English, she said yes. I asked her if she knew her mommy’s name, “yes” she whimpered. 

“What is your mommy’s name?”

“Mommy”.

With a soft giggle and smile I talked with her a little more and found out that her mom was wearing a pink shirt and had brown hair. I flagged down a few moms that fit the vague description, gave them a half heart attack as I asked if they were missing a kid, but had no luck. We grabbed a park bench and called park staff over.  

They took it over from there. The little girl was in good hands and I had my own toddler to settle down. 

I got back to my own little family, quite emotional as I think about how that mom must feel to not know where her baby girl is, when Paul says something to me that both boiled my blood and brought saddening tears to my eyes. 

“Nice catch babe. About 20 other adults watched the whole thing happen and you were the only one that did anything about it.”

Was it because I have crippling anxiety anytime I take my children into crowds? Where I’m always watching, waiting, to see the anomaly? Or maybe, it’s just mothers intuition. A 6th sense where I smell trouble in the air. 

I honestly don’t know the answer. Part of it is exhausting and the other part makes me feel like a superhero.

Love, Livv