Tag Archives for children

I Won’t Let Pain Stop Me From Comforting A Child

I love my cousin’s children. It was incredible witnessing the birth of her third child a few months ago and having been there makes me feel a strong connection to him. However, her older son – he turned three recently – is working on staking a permanent claim on a corner of my heart. He is one of the sweetest, good-natured children I’ve ever known. He’s affectionate, empathetic, already fiercely protective of those he loves, and hopelessly irresistible. So irresistible, it’s impossible for me to say no to him.

When I spend time with him, my lap becomes his favourite place to sit. He plants himself on my lap for comfort, play, and conversations I sometimes have to pretend to understand – after all, not all three-year-olds have perfect pronunciation. I also become his go-to person when he needs to use the potty. He comes to me, no one else, tells me he has to go, then takes my hand, and leads me to the bathroom. I have to hold him in place so he doesn’t fall into the toilet bowl while he does his business then clean him up, and help him get re-dressed. This may not be my favourite part of spending time with him, but the trust he places in me feels like an enormous privilege.

The only problem with not saying no to him is that it adds to my pain levels. Unfortunately, he weighs more than his newborn brother so having him sit on my lap is one of the best and least enjoyable parts of spending time with him – if that makes any sense. There’s also the issue of how often he needs to use the potty because it means standing and sitting back down for the countless trips with him to the bathroom; or wherever else he feels like leading me: getting snacks from the kitchen or finding his toys. All of this added activity puts a strain on my legs and pelvis; and is most likely the reason I had the intense pain flare I wrote about in my last post after an overnight visit to celebrate his birthday two weeks ago.

Still, no matter how I try to justify it, none of this feels like a good enough reason to deny this little boy the physical closeness that gives him comfort, makes him feel secure, and happy. I also have to admit that even with the added pain; I don’t want to change how I interact with him because I want him to feel loved by me always.

 

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Teach Your Children

The Pain in Fragile Human Connections

Life has a way of reminding us of how fragile each of us and each relationship connecting us can be. As I’m working through my recovery from surgery and ongoing chronic pain, I’m trying to support a younger cousin to hold her life together while it disintegrates in front of her. She’s pregnant with her third child and her partner walked out on her and their two young children, who are five and two, days after her doctor ordered her on bed rest. From the sounds, and looks of things, he’s been planning to leave for some time but failed to mention it to my cousin who is now eight months pregnant.

As much as I’ve seen and experienced in my life, this shocks me, and I don’t understand – even with my parents’ history – how someone can walk away from his or her young, and unborn, children. I don’t understand how one person can believe they have the right to make such a significant decision knowing it will negatively affect the lives of four other people and move on with their life without missing a beat. I don’t understand what he tells himself when he chooses not to answer his phone when my cousin calls him in the middle of the night because she might need something for one of their children or she might be experiencing severe cramping, or be in labour – premature or active. I don’t understand how he can cut himself off emotionally from having any interest in knowing how the child she is carrying in her belly is thriving – or not. He doesn’t attend her prenatal appointments, he doesn’t ask about test results, he doesn’t ask about her pain or if she’s resting and he never asks if she’s eating well, or if she needs help caring for their other children.

I know that no relationship is perfect – and I certainly don’t believe my cousin has no fault in the breakdown of this one – but I don’t understand how he could choose now to leave. What did he tell his five-year old daughter when she asked where he was going as he packed his things? How does it feel not to be there when his children wake up in the morning and when they go to sleep, when he has been there every day of their lives since they can remember? How did it feel when he walked out the door leaving the heavily pregnant mother of his children behind?

I’ve been speaking to my cousin every day since this crisis erupted in her life a few weeks ago. I don’t believe the pain I’m feeling because of my illness is anywhere near as severe as the pain she’s feeling from the breakdown of her family. To ease my pain I can take pain medication but there is nothing I can offer her to reduce her pain. She speaks of her heart breaking. I can offer no cure, but because I’ve had my heart broken, I know the only balm that will give her pain relief, and possibly heal the rupture, is time.

I also know I must show her that our connection is not fragile. However, the only way my fragile, pained body can show that is with open ears and open heart, and I hope that’s enough to help keep her whole and strong.

 

The Five Stairsteps – O-O-H Child

A Welcome Jolt of Energy

I had the best day today. My cousin brought her two young children to visit me. Her daughter is five and her son is two. They were such a delight to be with. They climbed all over me, gave me hugs, and made me laugh and smile uncontrollably. When they sat still long enough, they drew pictures using every colour from the boxes of crayons I put out. Otherwise, they were running around my place and climbing on every piece of furniture I own. At one point – I’m not sure how he came up with it – my cousin’s young son decided that the straps on one of my purses should be used as the reigns for his imaginary horse, which he rode while lying on his back on one of my couches. His sister, unknowingly, might have inducted me into a Māori tribe because all afternoon she kept coming close to me and either touching noses with me or doing what I think might have been the facial gestures and sounds of the Haka Challenge Dance.

Hongi - Māori Greeting
Hongi – Māori Greeting
Māori - Haka Challenge Dance
Māori – Haka Challenge Dance

I’m exhausted now, but I think it was worth it. I catered to their every whim. I was amazed at how much they ate because their bodies are so small, but no matter what snack I produced they wanted more. They talked and moved so quickly it was hard to keep track of where they were or what conversation had started or ended. When the time came for them to go home the little one, my cousin’s son, didn’t want to leave. She said that it was very unusual behaviour for him to want to stay with someone other than her. I felt honoured. I held him in my lap and cuddled with him until his sister was able to convince him they had to leave.

I had such a wonderful time with them today; I know I’ll be smiling every time I think of them for the next little or long while. Because I don’t have children of my own, I forget sometimes how spending time with children can lift your spirits and make you feel energized. I have to make the effort to see them more often.

 

Marcia Griffiths – Electric Boogie