Parental Fears

Have you ever been scared?

Of course you have. Do you have children? If not, then you’ve never been scared in the way that physically changes your genetic makeup. If you do, then you know the fear I’m talking about.

I’m referring to that fear that you feel down in the pit of your stomach that turns and twists and grinds its way up to your throat making it hard to swallow. It ends up manifesting itself in little beads of sweat on your brow. It becomes small panicked breaths, lower back pain, and weakened limbs. It is that overwhelming urge to do something to save your child but not knowing what you can do to help take their pain or fear away. I had this fear today.

When I was sixteen, I was in a car accident. I was a passenger in the backseat of a car that my dad was driving. I don’t remember much except seeing a glimpse of my very worried mother in the emergency room. I was scared, I didn’t know where I was, but once I saw her, I felt better and I calmed down immediately. Now that I am a mother, I know that it was very different for her. Unlike me, she took one look at me and her whole world changed. Her body felt different, her head felt different, her emotions were everywhere, and her panic button had been pushed. I was calm; she was frantic.

My daughter wasn’t in an accident. Her hospitalization was actually planned, for weeks, actually. But when we had some difficulty with her prep, and the nurse asked me if she should get more people to help restrain her, I was frantic.

No, no! You cannot restrain my child! What the hell. My child is not combative, she is not delusional; she is scared. The procedure is uncomfortable. She is scared. Back the hell off and let me be mommy!

Now, I just went through this with my youngest daughter last week and everything was fine, but she’s four and restraining her is a piece of cake and less impactful. Why is that? You would think that my thirteen-year-old would find reasoning easier and be more compliant. Why is she so much more difficult than her smaller counterpart? Why did I feel like falling apart after the ordeal was over and the tube had been placed?

She is refusing to be here alone now. Not that I would leave her here alone for any extended amount of time, but even just to run and pick up her brother and sister, I am having to make arrangements for someone to be here. I have had to rearrange my entire life for this week with her. I’m okay with that, I understand it.

What I don’t understand is why her father can’t take part in it with me. I had to ask him to come and sit with her so I could do some things I had to get done this afternoon. Had I not texted him, he wouldn’t have come, and it’s his damn week with her!

I’ll be glad when this is all over. We have four days here, total. One down, three to go. Testing is on Tuesday. Wednesday just can’t come fast enough.


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