Except one person is needing me more than most at the moment, my kiddo. It's so easy to get wrapped up in all the busy *and roll on the mama guilt* that you forget to stop once and awhile and take stock of a situation, and there's been one slowly brewing which I didn't foresee. I'm talking about the D-word...yes, death.
F by nature is a sensitive boy, and quite emotionally mature and intune with the world around him. So I knew something has been off for the last few weeks as we've fluxuated between various axieties such as fearing he'll choke on his food, being worried about using the toilet, about missing either me or Paul when one of us is not with him and even some tears at pre-school. Finally last night it clicked into place.
Behind those big beautiful brown eyes, his mind has been going into overdrive and as I sat trying to get some work done I heard him call out for me. His little frantic voice shouting from his room. On rushing in I was met with his fear, "I don't want to die mummy, don't let me die". Oof there's something I wasn't expecting. As an adult we can rationalise these things, we understand the concept of death and the meaning of the word, all the while hoping for a long life. But to a small four year old boy, this realisation suddenly seems terrifying.
Don't put me under the grass. oof. Don't leave me on my own. oof. If I die will you have another baby and call it F and forget about me. oof. Each one is a blow to the stomach as I hold his little hands in mine and stroke his furrowed brow. Composing myself I try to answer all his questions calmy, each considered and loaded with reassurance as he works himself into a frenzy. "Mummy please don't let me die and be gone forever, I dont want to go mummy please" tears are now falling rapidly, his little face looks so terrified and his hands are grasping me so tight that I dare not breathe incase it gives away my poker face.
I know these questions are part of growing up, his mind trying to understand the world, and that in a few hours/days/weeks all this will be forgotten, but right now in this moment I can see the world from his eyes, how big and daunting it must seem. Even though he had asked about death a while back the idea that it will happen to him has taken his mind to a whole new level. So I do what mamas do best, squeeze him with all my love, cover him in kisses and sing him to sleep, only to then frantically search online the best way to ride out this tiny storm.
If there was ever a need for a parenting manual, now would be great time to pass the book around.
