For the recovering Helicopter Parent

I am a helicopter mom and I hate myself for it. Can anyone else relate? 

Hear me out. When I imagined what I would be like as a mother, I pictured being cool and collected. Trusting my children as they figured out their boundaries by learning from their own mistakes. If they fell, they would get back up and try try again. 

Then something happened... I actually had some kids. Oh boy. You know what? They actively try to kill themselves every single day. Whether its by shoving an entire sandwich in their mouth, or pretending a plastic bag is their astronaut helmet or they need to put my keys into ignition (which is in fact an electrical outlet at their eye level), they are going to do at least one thing a day that could kill them dead. 

Instead of being that happy hippy nonsense mama, I am the mom you see shouting at one of her kids from across the park to let them know that they can not just walk off the platform 5 ft from the ground. It is not a step. It is danger danger! After all, I have saved their lives on multiple occasions. Like actually saved their lives. My daughter has choked not once, but twice and gone unconscious where I was solely responsible for whether or not she ever breathed again. And my mad cat-like reflexes have prevented many emergency room trips.

However, as I hover around my children, I see their spirits being crushed. They aren't babies anymore. They are toddlers with quite impressive problem solving and risk assessment skills. I know they need to know I trust them and believe in them to take little steps towards independence.