It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s only a matter of time.
Sooner or later, something or some one is going to make Jack feel helpless, alone and afraid. I’m sure something to this effect has already occurred in the 8 months he’s been here, but he doesn’t have the cognition to realize it. I’m talking about when he is fully aware of himself and his environment and, out of nowhere on some idle Tuesday, he will be presented with a situation that I am incapable of protecting him from. The list of what this could possibly be is only limited to the active imagination of a parent that has that perfect psychosis mixture of morbid speculation, irrational paranoia, and a need for complete control over the uncontrollable.
Yeah, that sounds a bit like me.
So, what’s a S.A.H.D. to do? What are any of us to do with the knowledge of this impending wound? Simple. We just let it happen. We have to. While this might seem like an obvious answer, I am continually surprised at how ass backwards the obvious answer presents itself to new parents. There it is all along and yet all of your more emotionally charged instincts tend to get in the way of your gut response to most given situations. It’s truly an amazing example of being able to convince oneself that the most obvious solution simply MUST be wrong.
Jack is starting to crawl right now. When he first started getting from his stomach to his knees, he’d last steadily for about a second or two. This was followed by several seconds of shakiness that made it appear that he was attempting a high-wire act. The finale was his meaty, yet fragile, limbs just giving up and his entire weight folding in on itself until gravity re-introduced him to the floor. Sometimes he’d shake it off and give it another go. More often though he’d look to me or Allison for help. He was done with standing still and wanted to move on to the next phase, but he wanted us to put him in position to do so. Upon realizing that a simple glance in our direction was not enough to coerce us, Jack would move to Plan B: the waterworks. Now I know there are much more dire situations for an infant to be in. However, until you’ve experience those more dramatic scenarios, it doesn’t get much more heartbreaking than seeing your son plop with full force onto his belly, and look up at you with streaming tears and curled lip wanting to be put back onto all fours.
We put him into position a few times, ignoring the obvious solution. He’s got to learn to get back up. He’s gonna fall. He’s gonna hurt. You’ve got to just let it happen. You’ve got to accept that the world is a loud, bright, chaotic place. You’ve got to hope that you’ve given him the tools he needs and sharpened them to a razor point and honed his skills in using them. You’ve got to let him fall and hope that you have taught him to get back up.
This morning this happened:
Yes, clearly this is all metaphorical. You should be there as much as you can possibly be there for your son or daughter and more so. However, it’s a healthy realization that you cannot and will not always be there.
To be honest, in the end, I think I just wanted to show off that video of my boy semi-crawling. Can ya blame me?