“Please understand, I’m not trying to gossip,” the nurse went on. “I was just wondering about their reasons; maybe there’s a good reason—”
“Nope. Absolutely not. They knew exactly what they were doing in not vaccinating. And they took the risk anyway. Put all of our children in danger.”
“Christine, please...” Lucy looked mortified.
“I see,” the nurse murmured softly.
“And, Kate, you know my cousin is a solicitor? Well, we were discussing the situation about the Coopers over lunch the other day...and he tells me there is a school of thought that suggests if you decide not to vaccinate your child and another gets seriously ill like Rosie has, you could potentially be held liable.”
I shook my head; was Christine seriously suggesting thatIwas the one responsible for Rosie’s plight? “Are you saying I’m to blame for this?” I gasped, a bit hysterically.
I looked to Lucy for help, but she wore an expression I couldn’t read. Was it confusion? Or concern? Why couldn’t I follow this conversation?
Jesus, I needed to sleep.
But Christine’s dark eyes were bright and she was shaking her head.
“No, Kate, she’s not suggesting at all that you’re responsible,” Frances put in. “But I think what your friendissuggesting is that the other parents could be. They failed to vaccinate their child. That same child contracted a preventable illness, passing it on to Rosie, who’s since become very ill.”
“What does it matter who’s responsible?” I cried. “Please,” I implored Lucy. “I can’t deal with this. I...I’m not fit for visitors just now. My daughter needs me.”
The nurse stood up. “Kate is right. Perhaps this isn’t the best time...”
I felt myself start to relax just a bit, but Christine wasn’t finished. “But you have to think about this, Kate. I mean, I’m not trying to force your hand or talk you into anything you are uncomfortable with, I just want you to think about it. There was a deliberate choice made. You couldn’t vaccinate Rosie without risking her life. The Coopers weren’t faced with that decision—they just decided not to bother. And don’t forget Madeleine sent Clara to school that morning, knowing she was unwell. This was what my cousin found interesting. Think about it. She doesn’t protect her kids from infectious diseases and then she sends her feverish daughter to school. Shedeliberatelyput ours at risk.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It was just unfortunate, just one of those things. And it’s a risk I had to take every day, too, knowing Rosie isn’t protected. It’s just as much my fault as anyone else’s.”
“How can you not see it?” Christine persisted. Lucy put a hand on her arm, trying to quiet her.
“Because nobody does that!” I cried, outraged at the very suggestion. “No parent wouldeverintend such a thing.”
But amid my protests, the alternative scenario sparked a thought in me.
If Madeleine Cooper, knowing Clara was ill,hadn’tsent her daughter to school that morning, wouldn’t Rosie have avoided getting measles?
And wouldn’t my little girl now be at home making up fearsome scenarios for her dinosaurs, instead of lying in a hospital bed, fighting for breath?
10
MAD MUM MUSINGS
Parents Not Allowed
I see a woman hovering under a seven-foot play frame, arms aloft like a wedding guest waiting to catch the bridal bouquet. But then she turns and I see not anticipation, but outright terror on her face.
“Oh, my God, she’s going to break her neck,” she gasps, horrified. “Anyone know who her mother is?”
The kid apparently in such grave peril is mine—except she’s been climbing that play frame since she was four. When I tell the woman this, she stares at me, eyes wide with recrimination, and I realize that, yikes: this mama bear’s a helicopter.
A species of parent that is all too common in our favorite playground.
I love taking my five-and eight-year-old kids to the playground for many reasons: first and foremost so they can play and muck about—with other kids or by themselves—as well as learn to negotiate the world on their own terms.
They run around, laugh, climb play frames and make friends—all the usual things kids do at parks and playgrounds—while I sit on a bench at a safe distance, chat to other parents or (gasp!) idly scroll through my phone.
For my two, it’s a space that remains free from everyday restrictions (within reasonable limits). I don’t stand over them or interfere and it seems this, at least to the helicopters, makes me not just a Mad Mum but a Very Bad one, perhaps even worthy of social services intervention.
Because helicopters come to the playground to be Alert At All Times, hovering endlessly over their charges—coaxing up the ladder and down the slide, bouncing gently on the seesaw, swinging endlessly on the swing.
