Unintentional Hurts Still Hurt

“I thought about it and I want a baby sister.  Then one day, when Mommy and Daddy are gone, I can have Ellis as my dad and my sister, Sarah, as my mom.  Words have power, right?  So now that I said that, I might get a baby sister?”

Micah laid that on Kevin when they stepped outside for some fresh air during a lovely Manhattan wedding this past Saturday.  I may have schooled him too much on the power of words.  For a time, he and Ellis have said they only want each other as siblings because they love each other the most but Micah has amended it here and there. Micah wants two more siblings named Sarah and Ope.  No “H.”

He is four so it makes sense that he wants to be mothered and fathered, even setting up provisions so that he can ensure a lifetime of being parented.

At my age, however, it shocks me when I feel an acute need to still be mothered and fathered, almost like physical hunger at times.

Yesterday was Sunday, Bonus Day TWO of Truly Spring-like Weather.  Folks in NYC were NOT taking it for granted.  In fact, we were treating it like a holiday weekend, just Halleluyerin’ as we soaked up the much needed rays.  It was in the 60s and windy at times but for us on the East Coast, it was everything.

I had already left my meeting at church to meet my family in the parking lot. I had beat them to the car for once.

When I spotted the boys walking down the stairs, I beamed and put out my arms for them to run right into.  It’s always such a treat to catch their expressions when they first notice me watching them from afar.

We were whoopin’ and hollerin’ like we hadn’t seen in other in months and bear hugging.

I began to beam even more when I heard that Micah had been able to go to the older kids’ class instead of redshirting himself to stay with Ellis in the younger kids’ class.  Micah was smiling so big, like Denzel and Matt Damon, proud of his milestone, as he stepped onto a tiny ledge on the side of the building.  Right at that moment, I leaned down towards him to pull him into another bear hug.

His skull connected with the bridge of my nose. We couldn’t have synchronized it better.

Everything appeared in slow motion as I winced and rivers of tears began to flow.  I was blown away by the pain.  I wanted to curse but the pain had rendered me speechless.  I had been beaming just seconds ago but now I wanted to get to the car as soon as possible to bawl my eyes out in private without worrying about running into a sea of familiar faces.

I glanced at Micah.  His eyes had teared up, too, from some pain but he seemed to be recovering without a peep.  It hadn’t hurt him as much since it was his skull hitting my nose.

As we walked to the car, I noticed Ellis walking right behind a car that was going to back up.  I yelled out for him and snapped at Kevin, “Really?  I can’t even deal with my pain without having to worry that you have your eyes on the kids properly?”

Once I got in the car, I started crying audibly.  Straight blubbering.

I couldn’t believe how much it hurt.  I became downright mean to Micah.  It even surprised me since it was clearly just a mishap, an unfortunate accident and he is my four year old baby, not some clumsy adult who had clocked me.

In that moment, though the pain was legitimately causing me to shut my eyes tight as I continued to cry, I started crying about other things.  Things I had been lamenting but not been able to cry about.  Deeply personal things.

Kevin noticed that somewhere post blow to the nose, things had gone south and my scolding Micah was out of character.  My kids have unintentionally harmed my body parts many a time and I had never reacted like this.  Kevin tried to remind me, “It was an accident. He didn’t mean to crash into your nose like that.  You’re taking this too far.  Something’s going on.”

I suddenly screamed, “UNINTENTIONAL HURTS STILL FREAKING HURT.  AND THIS FREAKING HURTS!  WHAT BAD TIMING TOO.  WE HAD JUST HAD OURSELVES A PERFECT MORNING AT CHURCH!”

Flashback to a fight we had been having the night before.  Kevin had said that he NEVER hurts me intentionally.  I had said something similar to what I was screaming now.  UNINTENTIONAL HURTS HURT JUST THE SAME.

We had fun plans after church but I asked to be dropped off at home. On my own please.

I later apologized to Micah for overreacting.  “Micah, Mommy was in a lot of pain when you jumped right into my nose but you didn’t do it on purpose so it was wrong of Mommy to be so mean to you.  I don’t know why I was so mean.  I think Mommy must have been sad about some other things and when my nose got hit, it just made all my tears and anger pour out. Can you forgive me? I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you Mommy.  But I have a question.  Why did you stand right there when I was about to jump?”  Good point.  The dude had flipped the script on me.  I had been livid that he jumped right into my nose when I was clearly in his path, but he logically asked the inverse of that.  Why did Mommy step into my jump?

Back to the wanting to be mothered and fathered even at my age.  I miss the times when I could call up either of them and just pour out my heart, no censoring.  What a gift that was.

I went to yoga tonight and at the end, when we were just lying there in corpse pose with our eyes closed, I felt such a warm presence on my forehead that I peeked to see if the teacher had stopped by my face.

It was a warmth I had never experienced before.  Perhaps it was the first time I had truly been able to relax in the last couple weeks but it felt like a parent was placing their warm palm onto my forehead, as if checking for fever.

Advertisements

One thought on “Unintentional Hurts Still Hurt

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s