Conjunctivitis and an ear infection had another plan. Our son started the trend on Monday morning and our daughter followed on Wednesday. Without sounding melodramatic this has been one of the hardest weeks I've ever lived through...
When our daughter gets sick there is a process of exchange in which she expresses to us where she is hurting and how much she is hurting. We talk with her and reassure her as we care for her. She tells the doctor what she is feeling and understands the doctor through the examination. We reward her with a lolly after taking some foul tasting medicine. We engage with her and she knows that we are with her every step of the way. She puts her trust in us.
When our son gets sick the process is vastly different. We go through a list of questions and get no answers. Is he pressing his hands to his head? Does that mean a headache? Are his cheeks flushed? Is he hot? How much has he eaten today? Why is he writhing in pain? We become experts at reading the subtle nuances of his body language. Colombo would be proud. The whole time he is avoiding us. Unaware that we are there to help. Then we take him to see some other random person who pokes and prods, none of it makes sense to him. He runs when we come at him with medicine. No lolly is worth that! The eye drops this week required the two of us. One to hold him down while the other put the drops in. The ear infection was the most pain we've ever seen him in. Trying to get the pain killer in was nothing short of hell. He had no idea what was happening. The two people he trusts most in the world had turned on him. My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. My husband's usual steady and strong spirit was broken.
Words... no words could make it better. Our words were futile. His words lie so deeply within him we only hear them when he is beyond frustrated... medicine coming..."No, no"... pain..."Ma, ma" Even then they are so quiet, so foreign you question if you've heard them.
When words don't come frustration remains. Our placid, gentle boy is replaced with a boy desperate to be heard, desperate to be understood. A boy on the edge all the time. It's like living with a ticking bomb. I resent that he is in this position. I resent that we haven't yet found a way to make it easier for him. I resent that it all takes so long. I resent that these moments starkly remind you that you still have so far to go.
I find myself caught rudderless. I resent that. It renders me stuck for a day or so until I shake it off. Snap out of it and regain control. A plan, a direction.
One day those words will come without the frustration.
That's beautiful.. stay strong!
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