it's strange to me how relinquishing my twins affects my parenting now. I think the most prevalent characteristic of that parenting style is that I am overprotective. I am petrified that something bad is going to happen to my children. This past week was only a reminder that no matter how much I heal - that relinquishment will always be with me.
On Sunday my Princess started running a fever and was generally just not herself. She is not like her brother and reacts to the slightest thing that is wrong with her. So to accommodate her all four of us were all in the bedroom and I was playing with her very subdued little self on the bed. My husband asked me a question about what basket was clean and what basket was dirty. See I have a major problem with laundry ... I hate it. And my dear husband was trying to help out by getting some stuff put away. So I put some pillows around the my tired sick girl and got up to go check the silly baskets. I was less than three feet away from her. I made my verdict in about 10 seconds only to turn around to see my little girl crawling over the pillow toward the edge of the bed. Two seconds seemed like an eternity as I watched her tumble head first over the edge of the bed. I honestly don't remember how I got over there I just remember seeing her on the floor and hearing her instant scream. Thoughts ran though my head as quickly as they could - should I pick her up?is she bleeding?is she hurt?is she going to die? I picked her up and started shaking and uttering profanities. I was overcome with guilt, horror, and shame instantly. How could I have let this happen? How? How could I have been so stupid to leave my eight month old on the bed alone? I am so careful, so overprotective. I don't get how I could have messed up this bad.
I started feeling her tiny frame as I am holding her as close as possible. She is wailing at the top of her lungs, I just know something is horribly wrong. But as I check her out I can find nothing wrong. I realize that my husband is talking to me asking for her, to hold her. All I can say is no and hold her tighter in my shaking arms. Then the words get ugly and somehow he blames me. And into that turmoil of emotion comes anger, an intense anger. How could he know me for 9 years and not know the blame that I was already putting on myself? Does he not know that this moment, this horrible terrible moment will be with me for the rest of my life? That I will always feel guilt in regard to it, that his words - even if they are taken back - will always be with me? That the 'your not good enough to be a mommy' thoughts have already started to come back?
I left the room to be alone with my daughter to gently prod and test as many bones as I could. To look into her eyes, to sit in the best piece of furniture in our apartment, our glider, the place she knows is safe. Finally in our glider together we both start to calm down. I think she fed off my fear. And even though I keep shaking for an hour after I find nothing wrong with her as I examine her over and over. Not one bruise or red mark, not even a scratch. But she is clingy and wants to be held for the rest of the night. And I oblige her.
My husband apologized after a brief discussion and I let him hold her. But the need to have her in my arms is stronger than my own need to breathe. Except to give her to him, get a drink, and pee I couldn't let go of her for hours. The fear was starting to creep in. The fear that even though she appeared to be okay that she was going to die. That damn fear has haunted me since before Bear was born. A year and a half ago I wrote about it. I had been learning to let go. Up until a few months ago I had never let Bear go down a slide by himself. I am and always will be overprotective. But I was making so much progress. I was so proud of myself for letting him be a little boy, letting him run and jump. I am so fearful to the point of not letting him go to a baseball game alone with daddy because I'm afraid he will tumble down the stadium stairs, or get abducted, or insert something awful here. I had almost said ... "okay go." and now... now my heart stops thinking about being away from him.
The night she fell off the bed I didn't get much sleep. I pulled her crib next to my bed and listened to her breathe. I nursed her whenever she made a peep. I slept so lightly I woke up if she turned over.
The next morning she was running a fever. She was sweaty and when I went to take her temperature it registered at 102.6. I knew that I needed to take her in to the doctor. But a new fear was creeping in, one that I have never had before. They are going to take her away from me, and Little Bear too. And it took everything that was in me to make that appointment because I knew that this was it. I was going to loose them over this. I have read about this fear but never really felt it, and I hate it, each second of it.
The pediatrician examined her and deemed that it must just be a virus and that no damage was done from the fall. She reassured me that it happens to almost everyone and instead of being a bad mother - I was a good one for bringing her in and not trying to cover it up. She said that abusive mothers bring their baby in when the baby exhibits something wrong, and then lie about "falling off the bed."
Still the fear stays with me. Now that's on my record. What happens when they see all the many bruises on Little Bear? He hurts himself on the weirdest things, like the TV antenna that I still have no idea how he pulled on his head. It would be worthy of a laugh if I wasn't so worried about it.
In the last few days my princess' temperature spiked at 104.5. I was terrified. I didn't sleep, nor did she really. I feared all kinds of awful things, until yesterday when her fever broke. Still I couldn't sleep last night not knowing what was really wrong with her. Today she woke up with an awful rash and although you would think it would exacerbate the worry, relief washed over me. She has roseola. Bear had it 6 months ago. It is harmless.
I am exhausted. Yes, gone is the extreme anxiety that has been with me since she fell. But I am still so tired. My stress level for the past 5 days have almost drove me to the brink. And really knowing that my little girl isn't going to die... well ... I can't put it into words the relief I feel. Even if I knew deep in my heart those fears weren't founded.
3 comments:
Oh my goodness, that must have been very hard. So glad that all is getting better with the little girl . . .
I've heard the same thing from other first moms, that they feel very overprotective of their child(ren) because of having, in effect, "lost" one of their children. It seems to be quite normal.
I can't relate on that level since I'm not a first mom, obviously -- but this was more when we were first home with Nate -- for example, actually only a few days after we were home with him, he was on the changing table and I turned for one second and he fell off. I was just about hysterical with crying. He was OK, he seemed OK, but my mom (who was here helping at the time) encouraged me to call the ped's office so that it didn't seem like I was covering it up since I was such a newly adoptive mom. They asked me some questions and we determined that he was fine, but I was, like you, terrified that someone would take him from me.
I'm so sorry that you had to go through that. What an awful feeling.
You're obviously a wonderful mom. It's so sad that relinquishment can haunt first moms like it does . . . but I think it just does. I wonder if it ever goes away, but I'm not the one to say. *hugs* and prayers to you.
I too find myself extremely overprotective. You are not alone.
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