Day: February 10, 2006

david vs goliath

today carys was feeling a little better, not good enough to play outside, but good enough to leave my arms for a bit.

at 4.30 she was rummaging in a drawer the kids know not to play in. something crashed out and i exclaimed (too loudly) CARYS!

the little miss turned around and burst into tears.

i gave her a cuddle, a long one. at the end of it, i asked her to put back the bag that had dropped to the ground. she looked at me, started crying again and said, NO.

i asked her again and received the same answer.

time out time.

then back to the bag, request politely to pick it up.

she said NO.

i started singing the clean up song and demonstrated how to put the bag back. put my hand over hers to put the bag back. she jerked her hand and said NO.

i sat down on the ground with her for 90 minutes and held her while she cried. she looked so sad and determined and angry. i was all of those things, plus i had a sore bum from sitting on the floor.

at some point jasper, sela and sebastian returned from the playground. all were very surprised to see carys and i on the floor and her sobbing her eyes out. sela in particular was concerned, and tried to put the bag back in the cupboard and shut it’s doors. i let her do it to demonstrate to carys just how easy the task actually was, but the little girl just kept saying NO.

i called friends, women who have done a fabulous job raising their kids and they kept saying the same thing, persevere.

after 90 minutes of persevering a friend commented, "you’re letting her win because she is holding up your life. don’t you have a dinner party to go to tonight?’ well actually yes i do.

so i got ready, told carys i was leaving and hoped when i came back she would have put the bag away. gave her a long cuddle, disappeared for five minutes. returned to find status quo.

i have never had a battle of the wills like this with sebastian. and even worse, i had to go and leave it unresolved. and with carys being sick and having diahhrea, (and probably dehydrated after two hours of tears pouring down her face), i couldn’t put her to bed without dinner. no way.

i talked with steph and she confirmed that even though the stupid bag wasn’t going to end up in the stupid drawer, the two hours i had spent with carys had not been in vain. she still realised what she had done was wrong and that she did not get her normal routine (bath, play, dinner with siblings) because of it.

she did eat her dinner…i was happy to see that….and i made a point of being the one who put her to bed. don’t go to bed angry is a great resolution for a marriage, and also with your children. today was the first time i really had to put it into practise with the triplets. not surprised it was carys.

long day. those two hours were emotionally draining. you start questioning yourself: does she understand my command? is she too tired to think straight? is there a difference between breaking will and spirit? i think sela and jasper will be more maleable than lulu, but i could be fooling myself. i do know that i will find out sooner than i want to.

do we ever get over it?

it has been very good for me to hold my sick little carys this past 24 hours. the racing bundle is quiet and hot in my arms, a painful exhale coming through her cracked dehydrated mouth every once and a while. holding her, smoothing back what little of her hair there is, placing tiny kisses on her face, it’s all good.

and timely.

prematurity is on my mind again.

i have met online a couple going through their own preemie hell. they chose a very unusual name for their son, ironically my nephew has the name name. i feel close to them, but as they describe their NICU days, i find myself clenching my fists, chewing my lip.

i am reading a memoir of a mum who had a son in the NICU for a few short days. reading of how every day and hour counts when you are desperately trying not to give birth (after desperately trying to get pregnant) and then seeing your precious baby, or what the tapes and tubes aren’t covering…it brings it all home again.

the other night we had a dinner with another couple who knew a lady with twins. her boys were born the same day as the triplets were. i had met this woman back in june, and when she confirmed that my babies had been born the same day as hers, she leaned forward and said, "i heard you crying. i asked if there was anything they could do for you. they said no. but i heard you crying tess."

when the lady recounted that story to me i started crying right then and there. mainly because i didn’t remember the crying…had i cried in the hospital ward? mainly because i remembered the fear of that day. the pain of the caesarean (which was infected), but trying to walk because i needed to get to the babies. but being afraid to see their pictures. not wanting to see the damage my damaged body had caused them.

and i had a happy ending to my story. it seems i don’t have the right to make this a bigger drama than it was…sick children that went on to be healthy. my children lived. and i am quite certain that thanks to God and therapy i am over the post traumatic stress i experienced after the babies came home and my mind took in all that had occurred to us.

but it is all so tender to me still.