My dad is off-ish and was admitted so I dropped a bag for him (my mom had it all packed and then forgot it at home in the rush – guess who isn’t a hospital regular 🙂 ). The children and I were busy swiping in at the gym (die oefenwinkel) when my mom phoned to ask me to bring it over. So we U-turned right there and fetched it.
Driving to the hospital was fine. But as soon as the front wheels touched the parking area I had a panic attack.
1 year, 7 months and 18 days and a healthy child later I freeze up and can’t breathe.
I am still freaked out from that. My chest is still tight and I am >this< close to bursting into tears since then.
And I feel like the worst mom ever. Because I dealt with my own issues by snapping at the kids. They, of course, felt it the moment I went off the rails and wanted to be reassured of my love and devotion. Whereas I only wanted a bit of quiet. Huge clash in needs there.
But all three of us made it home. And Wouter took one look at me and asked if I wanted tea.