I started this look at trauma a few weeks back. School has subsequently started, but I think this is still relevant.
KD (my 14-year-old son) is starting high school next week. As a last “hurrah” we had Giants tickets. Since Captain Mommy (my wife) couldn’t go, we took the bus and then spent the day together. And it was fabulous: beautiful day, delicious food and a good game.
During the bus ride home, I had plenty of time for one of those philosophical conversations with myself. I thought about his life, my life, meaning, transition and wondering what it will be like on the first day of high school. It was a bit heavy, but after a stellar day, my mind was in the mood for reflection.
I wondered: will it just be that normal parent transition time? Or will it will be harder? Will it be trauma or just drama?
The reason I wonder if it will be harder than for many parents is that his early childhood wasn’t what a parent expected. One moment we’re getting ready for a water birth at a crunchy, country hospital, and the next thing we knew it he was struggling to breathe, and we went in an ambulance to the trauma center. When we got there, the trauma doctor approached us and let us know that our son was very sick. His “roommate” in the most severe trauma room died. After 20 days in the NICU, watching his oxygenation percentages and heart rate 24 hours a day, we brought him home on oxygen. The memories stuck with me: the clear plastic “crib,” the priest coming to pray, the flashing lights and 24-7 activity. A few years back I shared more about his birth story in: The Bubble Team Meets Dr. Doom and Gloom.
I recognize that we don’t know how hard parenting is until you’re in the middle of it. But I knew enough to know that our situation was harder than most. Let’s just say I learned all about quarantining long before COVID-19 entered into the world.
Frankly, the next few years weren’t much easier. He visited the PICU a few times and was only well when he was on antibiotics. We took him in the steam 5 nights a week to help breathe. By the time he reached kindergarten, I was an emotional mess. I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
Much that I was relieved to hand him over to other adults so I could have a quiet minute to breathe on my own and take a nap, it was an incredibly difficult experience for me. I wasn’t sure if my experience of my son starting kindergarten was normal. Or was my reaction based on trauma. A while back I talked more about this. Is it trauma or just a little drama?
Eventually KD got better, and we settled into what felt normal to me. School, grades, sports, friends, etc. His health has been stellar. He didn’t miss a day of school due to sickness in 8th grade. And over time I worked hard on my mental health and my PTSD drifted into my background.
Thing is, even though I haven’t had PTSD for years, it’s still residing within me. My brain and body haven’t forgotten. And there’s something about the transition that leaves me feeling anxious, curious, confused and frankly somewhat irritated. We therapists call this triggered.
As I said, I wrote this about a month ago. So, I know what it has actually been like for me. I’ve had interesting reactions to trauma. Next time, I’ll take a deeper look.
Until next time…