The Fire

* In retrospect

This one event shook my life massively.

Tim and dad lit a fire to burn off some weeds.  I trust them both, so I believe them when they say they did it smartly.  The weeds just took off and sparks flew everywhere, igniting the week old grass which had been slashed and was lying all over the ground.  The fire is about 20m from the house and the wind is blowing it like crazy.  Mum and I are cleaning a room inside and run outside to try and help.  There is no hose, so we have to wait for water to drain from the tank to fill the buckets.  I am running full buckets of water back to mum, dad and Tim who are beating at the fire with rakes and pieces of tin to try and put it out, with not very much luck.  Somebody else takes over the water running, and I run to help fight it.  Dad has called the fire dept but it feels like they are taking forever.  I’m in the smoke trying to fight the front which is coming towards the house.  I suddenly realise I can’t breathe.  I can’t get out.  I run and run for air, and I’m not yet terrified, but I’m pretty close.  When I burst out of the smoke, Dad realises  that it’s futile and tells us to get the kids and get out.  Nathan is asleep in the house, so I wake him up, throw him on another childs lap in the backseat and tell them to put the buckle around both of them.  We don’t have the keys to the car with the car seat in it.  I drive Nathan, Meg and three foster kids away and we wait at the intersection of our road to show the firies where to go.

They take forever and I am trying to calm the kids down, while calling whoever I can think of to ask to pray.  I can’t really get on to anybody.  Mum drives down soon after and goes to the following intersection so that it’s marked clear as anything.  At this point the possibility of losing the house is very real, as is the possibility of my husband and dad getting hurt.

How stupid.  How stupid!  But I’m trying so hard not to get angry at them.

The fire trucks get there, five of them, and they put it out.  The fire burns right up to the house but it doesn’t light.  The paddocks to the left have been cleared, but it hasn’t crossed the road or entered anybody else’s property.  Mum takes the kids home, Nathan included.  I go back up to talk to Dad and Tim.  I’m coughing pretty heavily, and one of the firefighters notices and comes over to check me over.  My heart rate is well above normal, not surprisingly, and so they call a paramedic to come and check me over.  I’m 40 weeks and one day pregnant, and I have smoke inhalation, so they take me to the local hospital just to check on our baby.  He’s fine, and I’m fine and we leave a little while later.

Baby doesn’t come for another two weeks.  When he is born, there is heavy meconium in the waters, an indication that he has been stressed at some point.  My midwife thinks that it is most likely due to this.

I have become quite scared of fire.  I returned home to find dad burning a fire along our fence line a few months later and I revved him and then had a panic attack.  I don’t feel safe with fire near my house.  I’ve never liked it, but now I’m frightened.  Please God, don’t ever let me have to fight fire again.