4 year old's anguish (unbelievably long)
[email protected]
I'm not even sure how to describe my situation here to ask for help. But I
know you all will be able to help me.
As you know, I fell down the basement stairs a week and a half ago and broke
my ankle - a plate and 8 screws were required in surgery. It hurt. A lot.
I was home alone with my three and four year olds at the time. They were
happily watching Angelina Ballerina (!) when I decided to take too much stuff
down the stairs to do laundry.
After falling and trying, unsuccessfully, to correct the ankle, I called up
to my boy, Nathan, to bring me the phone. I was not calm. In the first few
minutes, at some conscious level, I knew I had to remain calm. Nathan first
didn't want to look for the phone, I begged him. Probably loudly. Then he
couldn't find it. It's a cordless and I probably moved it. So I dragged
myself up, foot suspended, screaming in pain. I remember screaming moments
followed by calm moments, chanting to myself to remain calm and get a phone.
Sort of like "ok, you can do it, get the phone" repeated several times
followed by a scream and panting to calm down. I know I was loud because my
throat hurt in the hospital.
Nathan did find me my purse with my cell phone in it and I managed to call
911. I think I was in shock. I kept begging them to hurry and the operator
was trying to calm me down. They called my neighbors and tried to get my
husband at work. I scooted to get my palm pilot, it was chaos. Paramedics
broke down the door. My neighbor came to get the kids, I kept chanting "my
son is allergic to peanuts," they took me out. Nathan asked them not to turn
the siren on. I spoke to both my kids when I could, trying to tell them it
would be ok. They both got kissed before I was carried out.
OK, that's what I remember of the fall. And then they played all day with
friends. My parents came and they played with them. They visited me in the
hospital. They were shuttled from house to house on the block, well taken
care of. I came home a few days later, Mark's Mom was here to help out. We
hired a nanny who started on Monday.
Nathan had a really bad day today. It's been raining and cold since I got
home, so the kids haven't been playing outside. They wanted a friend to come
over to play, so I arranged that. Julia and Luke played with trains, Nathan
didn't want to. I chatted with Luke's Mom, Dana (the nanny) supervised the
kids. So far, so good.
Then the village people showed up. Our streets have been torn up and to
complicate things we have been unable to get in our car in the driveway. I
called the village to see if I would be able to get in and they stopped by to
talk to me about it.
Then another friend came by with her four year old son and the noise level
increased. Then my physical therapist arrived. It was chaos. Nathan hit
one of his friends and they left in tears. Nathan was hysterical and I held
him for a bit. The pt was behind schedule and needed me to do the stairs.
Eventually Nathan calmed down and I successfully made it down and up the
outside stairs. I came back in and he and his friend were at it screaming.
His other friend left in tears. With his Mom. The therapist left. The
nanny announced that she couldn't work like this and Nathan was still
hysterical upstairs. Eventually she calmed down and comforted him. He slept
for two hours.
Julia and the nanny went for a walk so Nathan and I could snuggle when he got
up. He was completely refreshed and we had a great conversation. Now I
understand that Nathan thinks he made me fall. He thinks he pushed me down
the stairs. He thinks the screaming was an awful person with an evil laugh
in our front yard. He thinks he causes me pain. I know it's normal for a
four year old to blame himself for things, but I had no idea the extent.
Aside from talking about it a lot, how can I comfort my son? I used to yell
a lot more than I do now, he probably has a two year old memory of my
yelling. I do still lose my cool on occasion, so when I yell its because
I've reached my limit on whatever is driving me crazy. So, he's interpreted
my screaming in pain as screaming at him for some horrible thing.
He's had a lot of anger at me the past few days - since the Nanny came. I'm
right here in the house with them, but I think he feels like I'm passing him
off on her. My daughter is doing better in this, but she just peed on my
bed. She's had her temper tantrums. But she has even fewer words to express
her fears than my son, really. In the hospital we talked about how scary it
all was (my father in law dies in a hospital this past spring) and she said
"yeah, mommy, you died yesterday, but you are ok now."
My poor babies!
Elizabeth
know you all will be able to help me.
As you know, I fell down the basement stairs a week and a half ago and broke
my ankle - a plate and 8 screws were required in surgery. It hurt. A lot.
I was home alone with my three and four year olds at the time. They were
happily watching Angelina Ballerina (!) when I decided to take too much stuff
down the stairs to do laundry.
After falling and trying, unsuccessfully, to correct the ankle, I called up
to my boy, Nathan, to bring me the phone. I was not calm. In the first few
minutes, at some conscious level, I knew I had to remain calm. Nathan first
didn't want to look for the phone, I begged him. Probably loudly. Then he
couldn't find it. It's a cordless and I probably moved it. So I dragged
myself up, foot suspended, screaming in pain. I remember screaming moments
followed by calm moments, chanting to myself to remain calm and get a phone.
Sort of like "ok, you can do it, get the phone" repeated several times
followed by a scream and panting to calm down. I know I was loud because my
throat hurt in the hospital.
Nathan did find me my purse with my cell phone in it and I managed to call
911. I think I was in shock. I kept begging them to hurry and the operator
was trying to calm me down. They called my neighbors and tried to get my
husband at work. I scooted to get my palm pilot, it was chaos. Paramedics
broke down the door. My neighbor came to get the kids, I kept chanting "my
son is allergic to peanuts," they took me out. Nathan asked them not to turn
the siren on. I spoke to both my kids when I could, trying to tell them it
would be ok. They both got kissed before I was carried out.
OK, that's what I remember of the fall. And then they played all day with
friends. My parents came and they played with them. They visited me in the
hospital. They were shuttled from house to house on the block, well taken
care of. I came home a few days later, Mark's Mom was here to help out. We
hired a nanny who started on Monday.
Nathan had a really bad day today. It's been raining and cold since I got
home, so the kids haven't been playing outside. They wanted a friend to come
over to play, so I arranged that. Julia and Luke played with trains, Nathan
didn't want to. I chatted with Luke's Mom, Dana (the nanny) supervised the
kids. So far, so good.
Then the village people showed up. Our streets have been torn up and to
complicate things we have been unable to get in our car in the driveway. I
called the village to see if I would be able to get in and they stopped by to
talk to me about it.
Then another friend came by with her four year old son and the noise level
increased. Then my physical therapist arrived. It was chaos. Nathan hit
one of his friends and they left in tears. Nathan was hysterical and I held
him for a bit. The pt was behind schedule and needed me to do the stairs.
Eventually Nathan calmed down and I successfully made it down and up the
outside stairs. I came back in and he and his friend were at it screaming.
His other friend left in tears. With his Mom. The therapist left. The
nanny announced that she couldn't work like this and Nathan was still
hysterical upstairs. Eventually she calmed down and comforted him. He slept
for two hours.
Julia and the nanny went for a walk so Nathan and I could snuggle when he got
up. He was completely refreshed and we had a great conversation. Now I
understand that Nathan thinks he made me fall. He thinks he pushed me down
the stairs. He thinks the screaming was an awful person with an evil laugh
in our front yard. He thinks he causes me pain. I know it's normal for a
four year old to blame himself for things, but I had no idea the extent.
Aside from talking about it a lot, how can I comfort my son? I used to yell
a lot more than I do now, he probably has a two year old memory of my
yelling. I do still lose my cool on occasion, so when I yell its because
I've reached my limit on whatever is driving me crazy. So, he's interpreted
my screaming in pain as screaming at him for some horrible thing.
He's had a lot of anger at me the past few days - since the Nanny came. I'm
right here in the house with them, but I think he feels like I'm passing him
off on her. My daughter is doing better in this, but she just peed on my
bed. She's had her temper tantrums. But she has even fewer words to express
her fears than my son, really. In the hospital we talked about how scary it
all was (my father in law dies in a hospital this past spring) and she said
"yeah, mommy, you died yesterday, but you are ok now."
My poor babies!
Elizabeth
[email protected]
In a message dated 10/30/02 5:23:46 PM, ejcrewe@... writes:
<< In the hospital we talked about how scary it
all was (my father in law dies in a hospital this past spring) and she said
"yeah, mommy, you died yesterday, but you are ok now." >>
Poor thing!!
And poor mom.
Listen, Marty is 13 and he was blaming himself for my falling. Because we
had just been joking on the way to the elevators that he didn't want to be
seen with me, and so as part of the whole humorous conversation he got in a
different elevator. He thought that if he had been right with me he could
have caught me and I wouldn't have fallen.
I had to talk to him a couple of times to convince him it was NOT his fault
and I didn't ever think so for a minute. He thought so for at least fifteen
hours, though.
So for a four year old, I think telling him the story of your fall now that
you're calm would help. Just telling it like a "when I fell" story. You
could tell him how afraid you were, and how you wished you could see the
phone. And how sorry you were that your crying was scary to him, but how
much you were hurting and how afraid YOU were too. I think if you repeat it
every couple of days he will start to remember that instead of the version he
has now in his head, which is filled in with speculation and guessing.
I was traumatized by Kirby's birth. I went to a counsellor who specialized
in women/birth/ACoA stuff, to talk about it. She said I should talk to Kirby
about it, even though he was too young to understand, that he would
understand some of it, and that it would be healing for me.
Kirby was about a year old. He was nursing at naptime, and I was telling him
the story, lying on the bed with him. I was crying when I was telling it. I
said I was so sorry that when he was first born they had to take him away and
nurses washed him and measured him and weighed him, but I didn't get to be
there right away, and that they gave him to his daddy first, and that his dad
loved him and held him until I got to be in the room and see him.
When I mentioned Keith holding him first, Kirby pulled off the breast with
his mouth open and milk still unswallowed and looked at my face with big
eyes. He listened to some more of the story, and he reached over and got my
hand and kissed it.
He had never kissed my hand like that. I lay with him and rubbed his head
and he fell asleep.
I went and called Keith at work and said, "When you had Kirby in the hospital
room, when he was born, what were you doing before I came in?"
He said, "Just talking to him. And kissing his hands and his feet."
I think going through the story of your fall will help both of you. All
three of you.
Sandra
<< In the hospital we talked about how scary it
all was (my father in law dies in a hospital this past spring) and she said
"yeah, mommy, you died yesterday, but you are ok now." >>
Poor thing!!
And poor mom.
Listen, Marty is 13 and he was blaming himself for my falling. Because we
had just been joking on the way to the elevators that he didn't want to be
seen with me, and so as part of the whole humorous conversation he got in a
different elevator. He thought that if he had been right with me he could
have caught me and I wouldn't have fallen.
I had to talk to him a couple of times to convince him it was NOT his fault
and I didn't ever think so for a minute. He thought so for at least fifteen
hours, though.
So for a four year old, I think telling him the story of your fall now that
you're calm would help. Just telling it like a "when I fell" story. You
could tell him how afraid you were, and how you wished you could see the
phone. And how sorry you were that your crying was scary to him, but how
much you were hurting and how afraid YOU were too. I think if you repeat it
every couple of days he will start to remember that instead of the version he
has now in his head, which is filled in with speculation and guessing.
I was traumatized by Kirby's birth. I went to a counsellor who specialized
in women/birth/ACoA stuff, to talk about it. She said I should talk to Kirby
about it, even though he was too young to understand, that he would
understand some of it, and that it would be healing for me.
Kirby was about a year old. He was nursing at naptime, and I was telling him
the story, lying on the bed with him. I was crying when I was telling it. I
said I was so sorry that when he was first born they had to take him away and
nurses washed him and measured him and weighed him, but I didn't get to be
there right away, and that they gave him to his daddy first, and that his dad
loved him and held him until I got to be in the room and see him.
When I mentioned Keith holding him first, Kirby pulled off the breast with
his mouth open and milk still unswallowed and looked at my face with big
eyes. He listened to some more of the story, and he reached over and got my
hand and kissed it.
He had never kissed my hand like that. I lay with him and rubbed his head
and he fell asleep.
I went and called Keith at work and said, "When you had Kirby in the hospital
room, when he was born, what were you doing before I came in?"
He said, "Just talking to him. And kissing his hands and his feet."
I think going through the story of your fall will help both of you. All
three of you.
Sandra
[email protected]
>Sandra,
> I think going through the story of your fall will help both of you. All
> three of you.
>
.
I don't think it's just the pain killers talking here, but I'm crying while
reading your post. It's exactly what I needed to hear.
I used to tell both my kids their birth stories while nursing and rmember
those tender moments so well. I've worked on reconstructing my falling story
and will repeat it to my little buddies as often as they will listen. Last
night Nathan was playing with my electric bed while I was in the wheelchair.
He looked up, smiled brightly and said "Mommy, I DIDN"T push you down the
stairs!" Hopefully some day he will believe it.
Julia, my three year old, I think I haven't been talking to enough about the
fall. I assume she doesn't understand, but know that is wrong. Last year
Nathan was three on september 11th. He watched 5 to 1 minutes of the
coverage before I realized he was WATCHING it. And he understood and was
frightened. Don't know why i thought Julia didn't get it except that she is
so verbal and hasn't talked about it. But I think now that she's just
internalizing the experience and I want to change the tape in her head too.
Anyway, all this is to say a big thank you. I feel more confident that it
will be all right after some work.
Elizabeth