An Antidote For Fear

 “We’ve got a runner!”

The pediatric nurse made the announcement as I stood in front of her feeling numb — which was odd because I was actually feeling several emotions all at once yet the result was numb. I felt helpless. I felt afraid. I felt torn. I felt sad. I felt determined. I felt evil. I guess it was just too much for my mind to process so it left me vacant.

Most people who are afraid of the dentist are afraid because of a bad experience or a bad perception based on media or someone else’s bad experience. Some are intimidated by the room and the tray of “tools” that are always in view. Not the case here.

This was a pediatric dentist and the room was very fun with all the scary things hidden away. They had a TV on the ceiling with the movie of your choice. Being autistic, my son was simply overwhelmed by the sounds of the drill and the inability to accurately predict and understand exactly what was happening.

What for most children would be a simple in-office dental procedure had turned into a scheduled outpatient surgery. The consensus was that going to the hospital, going to sleep and waking up with everything done would not be traumatic for him.

Nope.

I knew better! I talked to the surgeon in advance and asked if there was something he could take before we left the house to help him relax. I said that my worst fear was having to hold or strap down my son. He took the medicine like a champ that morning. On the way to the hospital, however, my son said that he didn’t think the medicine was working because he was still really scared. I told him that if he could just try to relax and take some deep breaths the medicine would begin to work.

Nope.

As soon as we sat down at the hospital and they gave us the gown to change into, off he went down the hall! I saw a nurse sit on the floor in front of him and start bouncing a ball to him. The nurse began to tell some jokes. It slowed my son down so I decided to run to the nurse’s station. I explained what happened and asked if they could help because I knew that we were not going to make it into the surgical room if we remained on this trajectory.

The nurse called the anesthesiologist and said “We’ve got a runner!” She then told me to let him sit in the hallway — it was full of benches and windows and didn’t seem so scary and confined. She said that she would give him the medicine to drink but I would have to keep him in his chair and be right next to him because he would be asleep in 20 minutes, at which point she would come out with a gurney and we could take him to surgery.

Nope.

Twenty minutes came and went. Out they came with the gurney. My son stood up and said that he would walk to the elevator but he wouldn’t lay down on that gurney. He agreed to go to pre-op with the intention of talking the surgeon into rescheduling. The surgeon came out, so did the surgical nurse, the head of pediatric nursing and two others from anesthesiology. The surgeon showed my son pictures on her phone of her cat and did her best to distract him and help him feel at ease. They showed him the mask that they would put over his face to help him sleep.

Nope.

The next — and only — remaining option was to give him a shot. They would do it quickly if I could distract him. While I was giving him a hug they pushed the needle into his leg. The needle bent. Now not only did he know what was about to happen, heightening his fear, but my worst fear came true. I had to hold down my son so they could give him the shot again. It lasted just a second or two but it felt like an eternity. As soon as they were done and I released his arms he threw them around my neck, hugged me tightly and said, “Why are you letting them do this to me?”

Yep.

I died a little inside. Knowing that he was afraid, overwhelmed and confused I knew that I needed to use the last few minutes he would be awake to try to calm him. I didn’t want his last thoughts before he fell asleep to be filled with fear. We have a few phrases that we say every day at our house — they have become like our family mantras. After more than a decade of saying them, my kids now roll their eyes as they answer me, but they could answer in their sleep —or as they are falling asleep.

Me: “Andrew, what is mom’s number one job?”

Andrew: “To keep me safe.”

Me: “That’s right. I would never allow anyone to hurt you. The doctors are going to help keep you safe by fixing your teeth.”

Me: “Andrew, who loves you more than mom?”

Andrew: “Nobody.”

Me: “That’s right. No one loves you more than me. That is why we are here — because I love you and I want you to feel better. The doctors are going to help you feel better.”

I looked directly into his eyes, rocked him and repeated the same two questions — and he repeated the same two answers — three or four times. Then he was out. I laid his head down on the pillow and when I stood up and turned around there were all five of the hospital staff standing behind me crying. The surgeon gave me a hug, told me I did a good job and that she would take care of my son.

We still don’t speak of it in my house. Occasionally when I tell him that it is time to brush his teeth and get ready for bed my son will not want to stop what he is doing. All I have to say is “really?” That is enough of a reminder that none of us wants to go through that again and he smiles, jumps up and says, “Oh yeah – you’re right.”

As difficult as it was at the time, that day (I call it the Voldemort day because we cannot speak of it – now you have even a better understanding of why my children often roll their eyes when I speak) taught me a valuable lesson about how to take the power away from fear. When he woke up after surgery the very first thing my son told me was that he was sorry for acting so scared and asked if I was ashamed of him. I told him that nothing could be further from the truth.

It takes real courage to be who you are in a world that often judges you without knowing or understanding your circumstances. I know that he was really scared, but I also know that he was really brave. The purpose of fear is to promote survival. But sometimes fear can prevent us from living the quality of life we deserve unless we find our focus, feel safe and remember that we are loved.

 

The Lord Forgives Tired Moms

 My daughter never slept.  After adopting a second child I found myself outnumbered and overwhelmed.  I was supposed to bring her home from Guatemala when she was six months old.  Due to lots and lots of issues in the international adoption world, six months turned to eight months and eight months turned into a year.  The longer it took the more disheartened I became.  All I could think about was missing her first step, her first word, and those cuddly midnight feedings. *sigh*

Be careful what you wish for!  When I brought her home the week of her first birthday she couldn’t crawl, much less walk.  She didn’t speak – only cried, and she definitely didn’t sleep.  Ever.  Adrenaline, excitement, love and caffeine got me through the first few weeks.  Just when I thought I couldn’t do it for one more day, my mom came to the rescue.  She stayed with me for the weekend.  When Sunday morning came and I was dragging myself out of bed to get ready for mass, my mom told me to just go back to sleep.  “The Lord forgives tired moms, “she said. 

That was more than a decade ago, but I’ve thought about those words on several occasions.  Partly because they came out of the mouth of a deeply religious and spiritual woman, but mostly because a light bulb went off when she said it.  I didn’t have to be perfect.  I could give myself permission to try.  I, like too many people, wasted too many days comparing myself to others – and worst yet, comparing myself to perfection. 

I know a lot of people who wish they were something they aren’t or get stuck focused on the life they think they could have/should have had.  Because they don’t, they must be failures.  It makes me sad to see someone not able to move on because they no longer think that they deserve happiness. 

One of our family mantras is that when we are the problem, we are also the solution.  In our home this means that we have the power – the choice – to leave that place and create a change.  We can choose happiness.  For example, the birth mother of my son was in high school when she became pregnant.  She made several choices after that.  She has now completed college, is married and she and her husband recently had a son. 

Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses.  It is only when we accept everything that we are – and aren’t – that we can feel complete.  As Mother Theresa said, “God doesn’t require us to succeed.  He only requires that you try.”  I hold on tightly to try.  As my kids get older and face more complicated choices I tell them not to worry.  I don’t think we need to be perfect.  I don’t even think that we should focus on being successful.  I tell my kids to just do the next right thing.  That’s it.  Just the next, one right thing.  We usually know what that is. 

Thanks to my mother, I’m long done with success and failure, perfection and fault.  I choose to live in try.   I really like it here.  Even when it is frustrating, it’s always okay in the end.  After all, the Lord forgives tired moms.