Parenthood, Nightmares and Tragedy
A primal emotion kicks in for parents when they bring a child into this world. It grows more complex over time. It can't be stopped, and it's tough to contain.
It's called worry.
We worry something will go wrong in the womb. We worry about the baby suddenly passing away from sudden infant death syndrome or some other health problem. We worry about their health, physical and emotional. We worry about them accidently hanging themselves on a curtain cord. We worry about someone kidnapping them.
As the child grows older, other worries come into play.
A neighbor's back yard doesn't have a pool. It has a death trap. The street is a dangerous place. Accidents are a chased ball away. Bugs. Dogs. Rabid wild animals. Strangers. Disease. Chemicals beneath the kitchen sink.
Later in life, it's driving, drugs, alcohol, violence, unsafe sex, followed even later by career and spousal choices and the whole stress factors of life. And then having kids of their own.
My parents, when asked them why they worried so much, said, "Some day, you'll have children, and you'll understand."
Today, with two young boys, I certainly do understand. I wonder all the time about a parent's worst nightmare lurking around the corner. No doubt, these little guys are going to provide worry fuel, and they already do to some extend, despite their young ages of 2 and 4.
By the time they get to be teens, I'm afraid I'll be an emotional train wreck.
Yesterday, two Beaumont high schoolers died in just the kind of things parents brace themselves for but can't be totally prepared to face. A terrible accident on the rain-soaked highway. A telephone call at home. A visit to the grim, grisly scene.
And then the words: "Your child has died. I'm so sorry."
Last year, The Beaumont Enterprise wrote a gripping collection of stories on parents coping with the loss of a child. Almost every week, obituaries of children and young adults can be found in our newspaper. And then there was yesterday: two high school girls killed on their way to what was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a varsity playoff soccer game.
I see all this and wonder: How do people cope with this kind of devastating loss?
I think of the pregnancy and the miracle of childbirth, of changing diapers and then seeing them start to walk and talk, of going off to school and becoming their own individuals, of triumphs and failures. Of leaving home and finding their own way in life.
The parents of West Brook High School senior Alicia Bonura and sophomore Ashley Brown must have been proud that their girls were part of a varsity soccer team headed for the playoffs. They must have watched countless games over the years, giving up some nights and weekends for practice and tournaments. They organized carpools. They treated abrasions and bruises, some of them psychological due to a team loss or an individual failure.
But, obviously, that was just a small part of guiding their daughters through childhood into young adulthood. There were almost two decades of memories apiece regarding these young ladies.
And then the phone call came.
How are the parents going to cope with this devastating loss?
A twice-wounded Vietnam once told me the only way to survive an ambush is to fight your way through it, and I suppose this philosophy can be applied to just about any hardship, from beating an addiction to facing grief.
But then I look at the young faces on Page 1A of today's Beaumont Enterprise, and I wonder how I would handle it if it were one of my children's mugs out there.
All I know is that when I come home tonight, and my smiling, laughing boys come bouncing up to me and make me feel like I've hung the moon, I'm going to give them a big bear hug and tell them how much I love them.
It's called worry.
We worry something will go wrong in the womb. We worry about the baby suddenly passing away from sudden infant death syndrome or some other health problem. We worry about their health, physical and emotional. We worry about them accidently hanging themselves on a curtain cord. We worry about someone kidnapping them.
As the child grows older, other worries come into play.
A neighbor's back yard doesn't have a pool. It has a death trap. The street is a dangerous place. Accidents are a chased ball away. Bugs. Dogs. Rabid wild animals. Strangers. Disease. Chemicals beneath the kitchen sink.
Later in life, it's driving, drugs, alcohol, violence, unsafe sex, followed even later by career and spousal choices and the whole stress factors of life. And then having kids of their own.
My parents, when asked them why they worried so much, said, "Some day, you'll have children, and you'll understand."
Today, with two young boys, I certainly do understand. I wonder all the time about a parent's worst nightmare lurking around the corner. No doubt, these little guys are going to provide worry fuel, and they already do to some extend, despite their young ages of 2 and 4.
By the time they get to be teens, I'm afraid I'll be an emotional train wreck.
Yesterday, two Beaumont high schoolers died in just the kind of things parents brace themselves for but can't be totally prepared to face. A terrible accident on the rain-soaked highway. A telephone call at home. A visit to the grim, grisly scene.
And then the words: "Your child has died. I'm so sorry."
Last year, The Beaumont Enterprise wrote a gripping collection of stories on parents coping with the loss of a child. Almost every week, obituaries of children and young adults can be found in our newspaper. And then there was yesterday: two high school girls killed on their way to what was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a varsity playoff soccer game.
I see all this and wonder: How do people cope with this kind of devastating loss?
I think of the pregnancy and the miracle of childbirth, of changing diapers and then seeing them start to walk and talk, of going off to school and becoming their own individuals, of triumphs and failures. Of leaving home and finding their own way in life.
The parents of West Brook High School senior Alicia Bonura and sophomore Ashley Brown must have been proud that their girls were part of a varsity soccer team headed for the playoffs. They must have watched countless games over the years, giving up some nights and weekends for practice and tournaments. They organized carpools. They treated abrasions and bruises, some of them psychological due to a team loss or an individual failure.
But, obviously, that was just a small part of guiding their daughters through childhood into young adulthood. There were almost two decades of memories apiece regarding these young ladies.
And then the phone call came.
How are the parents going to cope with this devastating loss?
A twice-wounded Vietnam once told me the only way to survive an ambush is to fight your way through it, and I suppose this philosophy can be applied to just about any hardship, from beating an addiction to facing grief.
But then I look at the young faces on Page 1A of today's Beaumont Enterprise, and I wonder how I would handle it if it were one of my children's mugs out there.
All I know is that when I come home tonight, and my smiling, laughing boys come bouncing up to me and make me feel like I've hung the moon, I'm going to give them a big bear hug and tell them how much I love them.
posted by Brian Pearson at 1:22 PM
2 Comments:
Loving someone is the hardest thing in the world to do. Its the most painful emmotion I think we can have. Because to love someone means that losing them or seeing them hurt causes extreme pain.
The worry you talk about.. Is something that has always been very real for me. Its something that holds onto me and wont let go and sometimes it can squeeze the breathe out of you..
Why is being a parent so hard.. Its because there is no other love like it.
I have always feared letting my kids go with someone else over night, on a trip, ect. I fear that phone call,"I'm sorry ma'am we need you to come to _______ there has been an accident" I fear the silence on the other end. The knock at the door.. BUT those things can happen with my children with me. So sometimes I hold my fears in.. Kiss my children and wish them a safe and happy night at their grandmothers.
I almost lost my son when he was 3 weeks old. He had rsv and it almost killed him.. That was the most scared i've ever been for one of my own kids.
I do not know what its like to lose a child of my own. But I do know what the pain is like of losing someone who meant as much ot me as one of my own kids. My brother passed away 7 years ago next month. He drowned. He was 3. It was the most painful time in my life. That phone call. That phone call did me in.. I was due wth my oldest. And now her birthday every year is a reminder that he is gone another year.. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me but losing him was the worst.. No one deserves that kind of pain. I wish that on no parent.. Ever. And yet we as parents deal with loss and emmotional pain in many different ways when it comes to our kids. You pick up and go on.. You have no other choice..
Great post!
Your blog hits right to the heart of the fear of every parent. As a former teacher here in Beaumont and the wife of a paramedic who worked the scene, the threads that tie my emotions to this accident are numerous. I've listened as some of my former students tried to work through their grief, I've checked in on the girls who were "mine" (other former students), and I've prayed for the families involved. But the first thing I did when I heard about the accident was reach for my own two young sons, and simply kiss their heads and smell their hair while I held them in my arms. Then I cried for the mothers who won't have that chance again.
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