I am not an expert in trauma or PTSD. In fact, I really only started caring about it last spring when I discovered the depth of 6-year-old's trauma during a birthday party . We have been pretty 'incident free" since then. Yes, trauma affects my child's behaviors and thought processes, but we haven't had any major incidents since last June…until yesterday.
Spring break is here, and my in-laws offered to take my kiddos for for four days so I could pack the house for our upcoming move to the big house. The kids would get to see their uncle and have some special experiences with the in-laws while I pack the house and take care of some appointments that are difficult to schedule when I am working. Knowing the kids get nervous about "new things," we explained that they would be on vacation with the grandparents for four days, and then return home. Immediately my oldest said he didn't want to leave me because I might be lonely, and I shouldn't have to pack everything myself. This was a warning sign that I didn't pick up on.
Flash forward to yesterday. At lunch time, my phone had several messages on it from school and my husband. My son had an earache and needed to come home. My husband would pick him up and take him to work with him. Upon pickup, my son lost it. He sobbed and screamed, unable to explain the problem. His "earache" turned out to be a bleeding ear from him scratching it raw. My husband is very calm and patient, and he was able to get my son calmed down. They called me, and I asked some questions, discovering that he was very concerned about going away. In his mind, he was moving to his grandparents' house, and would no longer have any parents. He began hyperventilating and sobbing again, so my husband brought him home and called me again. I decided that, although my son wasn't sick, he really was sick. I went home for the day.
By the time I arrived home, my husband and son were settled nicely. He was ready to eat lunch and play. We decided he needed to go back to school….and he needed to stay with us. So, I did what any mother of a child with PTSD would do; I called the school to see if I could stay there the rest of the day with him. They made a nice table in the hallway for me to do work while he returned to his first-grade classroom. About every 15 minutes, he found a reason to come out and check in with me. This continued for three hours. I started to feel a bit paranoid, surely all of the paras and teachers thought I was overprotective and a bit crazy.
The day ended without incident, and my children and I got into our car to head home. I always drive with the windows down when we leave school so that I can hear what is going on around me in addition to looking out for little ones running around. As we got to the crosswalk, a teacher approached my window and said, "You are a wonderful mother." I was quite surprised and stammered something like, "I…I just felt he needed me here today." She nodded her head and repeated, "You are a wonderful mother." At that moment, I realized that my paranoia and worry about what others think will never keep me from supporting and comforting my son. Even if other people think PTSD is an excuse, I know that I am doing what is best.
Will he decide to go on vacation or to stay home with me? I don't know, but I am okay with whatever he decides.
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