Late last spring, GTB fantasized about long, warm, summer days spent on the river. We have a couple of friends who have boats and GTB was determined to milk some invites. As he waxed poetic about fishing, tans, and how cute Signe would look in a life jacket, I grew more and more fearful that he would find a way to turn it all into a reality.

One day, he noticed I wasn’t sharing in his daydreaming and he asked me why. I told him I was never a big fan of water (despite my insistence that we always live near it, sorry, Austin, TX) and that boating is too dangerous to do with a little baby. He showed me pictures of friends with their kids on the water. They all seemed fine and healthy, he pointed out. We have never personally known anyone whose kid has fallen out of a boat and drowned, he reminded me. We would only go out with responsible, non-drinking boaters, he pleaded.

To no avail. I would not be convinced. Try as he might, he couldn’t make me see how safe it was. Probably because it took me a long time to be perfectly honest with him about what my fears really were.

I grew up on the Columbia. I have known lots of men and boys who went fishing and never came back. I know that drowning is a real risk, even in a life jacket. That would be enough to deter most moms.

But my real fear was far less rational, far more embarrassing, and far more paralyzing. My fear, friends, was sturgeon.

Columbia River sturgeon grow to be enormous. And though they are bottom feeders, I am certain there are some that swim along near the surface, just looking for a morsel about Signe’s size to snack on. Gulp.

When I finally revealed my true fears to GTB, he, like the supportive husband he is, laughed, caught himself, and then tried to talk me down off this particularly ridiculous ledge.

When I told my mother of this new phobia, she agreed that I was within rights to fear the mighty sturgeon. Then she assured me that I have attained true motherhood. After all, what is motherhood if not a constant state of finding the next irrational fear. She might not have used those exact words, but that was the gist of it. (Right, mom?)

We haven’t once been out on a boat this summer. With or without Signe. And I can now say with some small amount of vindication that I made the right decision for my family.

My friend Julie posted this article on her Facebook page today. You can quibble all you want about “Florida,” “placid fish,” and “that’s on the other side of the country, you ridiculous woman!” But I know the truth.

Thank goodness I listened to my motherly instincts.

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