This and That

This weekend we went to a friend’s son’s birthday party. The party was at a great park, it was a beautiful day, and we were ready to party! My friend’s son was turning five years old so most of the other kids there were between the ages of three and five. My son is three years old and LOVES my friend’s son. Once all the kids had arrived (predominantly boys) an immediate game of make believe pirates began.  Pirate sayings rang out through the entire playground; “Yo Ho”, “Blow the man down”, “Argh! Come on maties!” The older pirates were the  ring leaders directing the game and instructing the younger pirates where to go. My son seemed to have no idea what was going on but he was having a blast. I could hear him calling out the pirate phrases the loudest, hollering for the other to follow him, and running and chasing the “prisoner” when she (yes the poor girls were the prisoners of the game) escaped.

My little pirate was having so much fun. Too much fun. He didn’t want to stop playing. He didn’t want to leave the game even for five minutes. Who could blame him? Who wants to leave a good time with good friends?

So he didn’t leave. He didn’t tell his daddy who was there observing the game that he needed to go to the bathroom. And in front of the other boys he had an accident. Not number one but number two. And then it happened. What would happen to any kid no matter his age or popularity status? He got teased. The boys, his pirate friends, laughed at him and were making fun of him as he stood there in his soiled shorts. As his daddy went to get him, picked him up, and carried him to the car to clean him up my little boy began to cry. I don’t think he was just crying because he had to leave the game. He was crying because his friends were making fun of him and being hurtful.

Now, let me say these boys are not mean boys and they are in no way bad boys. But they are boys and  sometimes three to five year old boys can be hurtful. And this is not to say my son is an angel. He has definitely been on the other side of this situation, being the hurtful one. But as I saw the situation unfold a  pain swelled up in my heart knowing that this would not be the last time he would be teased, made fun of, or hurt by his peers. Kids can be mean and hurtful.

I know this all to well. I was bullied a lot as a child. I had the misfortune of being an awkward girl with red hair and having the last name Allred. Yes it was very unfortunate. Let me tell you I was all too happy to change my last name when I got married. So I know what it’s like to be made fun of, I’m sure we all do. And the thing about that kind of pain, that kind of taunting, is that it can stay with you your entire life. I confess I still carry around scars from my childhood bullies, scars that I will probably have my whole life.

Seeing my child go through this was so awful, so sad. But the difference between my situation and his (besides the fact that he doesn’t have red hair or the last name Allred) is that he is a boy and his friends are boys. Boys get over things very quickly where as girls tend to hold on to hurt. After his daddy cleaned him up he ran right back to play with the pirates again. I actually almost grabbed his arm to try and convince him to go play somewhere else with someone else. I was afraid they would still make fun of him. I was afraid he would cry again. But as I said boys get over things quickly and those pirates incorporated him right back into the game and the pooping incident was never mentioned again.

Have you ever heard a heart break? I have and no, it’s not just a saying. It is an actually audible sound. I have literally heard the crack erupt down the center of the heart like an earthquake tremor breaks a piece of cement, splitting it in two. The sound raged through my ears, down my spine, and caused my whole body to convulse. I can still hear it ringing.

Three days ago he started having low grade fevers and then he slowly stopped drinking. It was so gradual that I didn’t even realize it until I was laying in bed the second night thinking about him, how he had been feeling, acting, eating, drinking….wait….drinking? Something you take for granted is your kids drinking. It started to dawn on me I hadn’t really filled up his water bottle a lot today. Which then made me realize I really didn’t change a lot of wet diapers either. He was acting fine overall. Playing, laughing, a little lethargic but nothing to get alarmed about. Or so I thought.

The next day hubby and I were pushing liquids on him more but with no luck. He was now adamantly refusing to drink anything. Pushing the cups away. Making a disgusted face just at the sight of them. I felt a panic start to creep into my mind and an uneasiness settle in my chest. Every mother knows these feelings.

He was now approaching twenty four hours without a wet diaper. I called the doctor and she told me to take him to the emergency room at once. Little kids can’t go that long without drinking or peeing. He is dehydrated she said. Within minutes we were at the emergency room explaining the problem to the nurse. I had no idea what was coming next.

I knew they would have to insert an IV to pump in fluids and I knew it would be awful seeing him in pain. But I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t prepared when they said a catheter had to be put in first. A catheter into a sixteen month old baby! It was like he understood the word because he immediately started freaking out and crying hysterically. Hubby and I tried to comfort him but how do you look into your baby’s eyes and tell him everything will be alright when he is about to experience the worst pain of his life? How do you kiss and hug him as you see the tears explode from his eyes as they insert the catheter? How do you do that???

I don’t know…..but we did. And over the sounds of his tears, over the sounds of his screams, over the sounds of hubby and I telling him it would be ok as we stroked back his hair, and kissed his forehead, I heard it. My heart breaking.

I prayed for the pain to end…and it did but only for a moment because now they had to insert the IV and take blood for testing. It was unbearable. The pain on his face. The look in his eyes as they fixed on mine. Asking me, begging me to make the pain stop. I heard it again, the unmistakable crack, the unstoppable ringing in my ears, and chill racing down my spine. My heart breaking.

We went home a few hours later. They pumped him with two bags of fluids (a lot of a baby). He was diagnosed with a common childhood virus and is doing better. My day is spent pushing liquids, fruits, and popsicles on him non-stop. He is drinking a little more and has had a wet diaper. But we aren’t in the clear until he starts drinking like normal, which I know he will soon. I can see it in his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. He is feeling better.

I breath deep and look at my beautiful boys.

Then I feel it. My heart mending.

                                                                         My baby