Outfits thoroughly soaked in curdling milk are Cub's specialty. As I was changing him out of one of those tonight he looked at me with a bit of mischief in his giant blue eyes, and a thought, a question, a wondering entered my mind. It had to do with his sister who still adores formerly-her-and-now-his nanny, and who finds it bearable to be sick and out of school on the days the nanny is here because duh-- she gets to spend time with her. So the wondering, it was about how he might feel about the nanny five years hence, whether he might be as open about his adoration as his sister is, or whether he might play it cool.
"You will grow up" I said, starting to trail mid way through grow, my brain putting the brakes on before I got to articulating what might happen at that time. And then "Will you grow up? Will you grow up?"*
*I was actually speaking the Old Country language, which happens to have one word that means all of "will grow up," meaning the difference between the first part and the second was only the inflection. But this is a close enough translation.
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16 comments:
I understand this perfectly.
I find it pretty much impossible to speak in any difinitive, planning, sort of way. I guess we all know there is just no such thing as certain anymore. And it sucks, big time.
I think I might relax when they leave home and get married. Maybe.
I hate that. the feeling that by applying to a school that goes to 6th or even 12th grade that somehow I'm jinxing us all. Who thinks like that?
Yes. Those sorts of thoughts creep in on me about all of my kids now and then.
Somehow, Big J entering his teenage years has made him seem more vulnerable than ever to me. It's hard to ever let him walk out the door.
After months of Julius being here, I think I am finally starting to think that he will stay.
For another day or two.
I hope longer. But I sort of don't dare ask for longer.
Oh yes. I do that sometimes, too.
I imagine I will be the same way. Jeez, I haven't even had a live baby yet, and I just went out and bought a motion monitor for SIDS. I think calling me a freak would be an understatement.
i hold them in hope of later, fierce hope. but my greatest fear is living it again.
Exactly. Yes.
SIGH***
I still do this with Beanie.
Nothings definite anymore is it? It's so sad that we have to catch ourselves all the time. I don't know if it's not wanting to jinx things, or just knowing that anythings possible.
Oh to have the blinkers put back on.
I only began writing and talking about and sharing the story of my firstborn's birth and death this year. Stephanie's small life altered the trajectory of my own. The man I was to marry (her father) left me, I tilted sideways, and never returned to who I had been. Never became who I was going to be.
When I birthed a child who lived, several years later, and when he nearly died of bacterial meningitis at eight weeks I realized, "oh, this is simply the way it is. I'll never not be walking hand in hand with death."
Somehow, having it (almost) happen again, made her loss easier to carry. And locking her away made it easier to raise my living children with hope. I'm not suggesting this as a coping method. I have such regrets over all those silent years. She'd be past twenty now. I miss her, so much.
All of this is by way of saying how much I admire you for being able to write and face this in the way you do, bringing it all here, to share with us.
I don't know if any of this made any sense ... But this post moved me, so there it is.
I like to think that my fears are specific to pregnancy and birth. But maybe not.
Odds are, he *will* grow up. But we have been on the wrong side of the odds, so yes i still do this. For example -- tonight, M. was sleeping quite heavily when i got home, so though i could feel him breathing i still had to poke at him until he actually moved. C'est la vie, i guess.
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