Last night I hunkered down in the basement with a bowl of strawberry ripple ice cream in my lap. I don’t generally eat ice cream, but I was stressed out and it was the only sweet stuff in the house. Under the Tuscan Sun was playing on the TV and our fuzzy green blanket was helping me to get cozy in the corner of our cushy black leather sectional.
A pretty idyllic scene considering I was in the process of torturing our youngest child.
I could hear her angry shrieking from upstairs, and each cry pierced my chest with a physical pain. And then, it didn’t hurt anymore. The sound ebbed into the background and the urge to weep washed away with it. As if she knew I’d suddenly adapted her shrieking picked up it pace, volume, and intensity.
My eyes flicked towards the garbage can where I’d had her drop her pacifiers a short time before bed. I had declared them to be yucky, and made her toss them herself so she’d know they were really gone. The storm of weeping that followed nearly broke my resolve.
I ran up the stairs a few times to stroke her cheek and tell her I loved her since she now had reason to doubt. She calmed with my presence but broke into a fresh bout of screaming as soon as the door shut behind me. I reflected on how sodden with tears her teddy bear was as I handed it to her.
An hour later she was quiet. Sleeping fitfully. She cried out a few times during the night but woke up happy and beaming as always this morning. The night’s terror forgotten. Her morning hug as fierce and loving as ever.
I can’t helping thinking (I do try, sometimes, I really do), what a reflection this is of God’s love for us. Some have trouble believing in a Heavenly Father who would allow the many hurts, sorrows, and outrages that afflict his children. And then I look at my children and think of what I allow them to suffer. The bumps and scrapes as they learn to walk and run and leap. The hurt and anger that come with not getting their own way. The outrage of forcing them to share and to accept the consequences when they break the rules.
Their growing pains will only increase as they age. They will struggle so much and hurt so much and I will want to take that from them. I will want to reach out and shelter them from it all. But I already know I will fight that urge as best I can. I have hopes for them that can only be realized if they suffer and strive against the challenges and opposition that this world of ours offers.
It makes it easier when I can think of it like that.
Remind me of that when they hit adolesence, okay?
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19 Comments
Ah… the end of the pacifier… always a struggle!
What a great analogy though… I admit, there are times when I probably scream and shake my fists at the heavens…
Oh, I’ve had to do this pacifier thing before. I didn’t do it NEARLY as well as you’re doing it though, and I certainly didn’t contemplate the parallel here that you’ve done. Well done, Momma. They’re lucky to have you. And you’re… well… lucky to have the ice cream at a time like this! :-D
This post made me feel brave about getting Silas off the soother.
When they hand you that cute little pink bundle, they don’t tell you about these times. Maybe that is a good thing?
Good parallel.
The first night is always the hardest, at least from what I’ve heard. One of my Flickr contacts got her daughter to seal her pacifiers up in an envelope to send them to the pacifier fairy or something to share them with little babies who didn’t have any. Seemed to work wonders.
I hope tonight goes better for you and for her.
Oh my gosh this was so good. I have never looked at it that way before. But now as I look back with the kids and how I made them go through some struggles to get to a higher advanced point, this all makes so much sense to me.
Thanks for the insightful post. I really hope it goes easier to night for you daughter. I feel really enlightened today.
Yeah, well, adolescence is indeed it’s own ball of torturous fun. When I was a teenager, I felt such righteous indignation at my mother when she’d say, “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” I’d want to scream NO IT DOESN’T!! Now I know it can be true. And I do believe that as we weep for our children who weep, Heavenly Father weeps for us as well. It’s a good thing each day dawns fresh, isn’t it? :)
I was lucky as my son never took to a pacifier… but he has struggled sleeping through the night (when there’s nothing he needs… trust me!), and that means sometimes I have to let him cry. Right now… he’s trying not to take a nap despite being exhausted. I wish I had some ice cream…
I like the parallel you drew… and I hope I’m doing a good job with it. I just wonder if it will be easier or much much harder to let him cry when he’s older. When I know he’ll remember it in the morning.
We just got Miles off the pacifier. It wasn’t great fun at all. Oh, the aching heart. But three days later – not a mention of it.
Then I think (of course) “OH NO, IS HE STUFFING HIS REAL FEELINGS AND THEN ONE DAY THEY’LL COME OUT AS RAGE AGAISNT SMALL ANIMALS????”
I’m crazy like that.
Also, this post makes me want to validate this post with the one on my list of “posts people say are nice” – The Fine Line of Protection
It’s much too long and rambling, but sometimes that’s how I roll.
Someday, in like fifteen years when you have time, you should give it a read.
Sometimes doing the best for our children is the hardest thing to do. I’m proud of you for sticking to it.
Your analogy is spot on.
If I had been there I would have watched the movie with you and given you moral support.
oh yeah i am so going to get some ice cream.
the boy had nap today without one.
he wasn’t *happy* about it, but he did it.
i’m of mixed opinion. i sucked my thumb until i was 8…yes 8. so i don’t want to get him mixed up in orthodontics. but DANG i am tired of hearing him talk with that thing in. he’s like columbo with that thing.
This was a really insightful post. You’ve drawn a wonderful parallel with this.
I hope the rest of the paci training goes smoother. That’s such a tough thing to do.
It’s stories like this one that make me wonder exactly what I’m in for come November. I really enjoy sleeping, I’ll miss that the most.
I have had a similar thought before, and suddenly it makes sense that parenthood would be one of earth’s experiences to prepare us for exaltation (i.e., becoming like God!).
It is very, very strange to me that you are not constantly tempted by ice cream. It is my downfall. So much so that I really can’t buy it, ever, or I eat the whole carton by myself in a matter of days!
I got lucky. Josh got a bad cold at 6 months and rejected the binky (presumably because he couldn’t breathe.) He never wanted it back.
You are a beautiful mother.
p.s. I think there’s something wrong with my feed. This post didn’t show up until this morning.)
Oh man I feel your pain, each of my three kids took a soother and it was a pain each time I took it away….now they are 10,8 and 7 and that seems like those screaming nights were forever ago. So true how it is difficult to see them go through pain when we want to just run in and make it all better!!
Hugs!!
I really needed to read this post today. I, too, often find myself wanting to shield my kids from their growing pains, but I know that is not going to do them (or me) any good. I need to take your Godlike perspective on this one.
We still need to get rid of the binkie (and we still need to potty train before September), but I am giving Cory another week or so to adjust to the new wee one in the house.
Oh that is so hard but you had to do it. When we took Miss E’s away we told her Santa came early and took themaway as she was a big girl. He left her chocolate pennies which she could have one of whenever she missed her dummy. It worked, but ti was tough. In Sutton Coldfield where lovely Belle lives you can take them to the farm for the piglets. How cool is that?
Great post babe.
How is the little love doing?