Crybabies

This last weekend we babysat my little granddaughter, Dahlia, for the first time overnight. She knows us well as we visit her weekly and she's always happy to see us but it was the first time away from her Mommy and Daddy overnight so there was some concern.

The parents spent one night here with her in the room so that she would feel comfortable in the house - and she's been here before.

All was well during the day - we went to the park and she played in the fountains and in the sand (becoming breaded and fried). She rode on the train on my lap - I thought I'd have to call the Fire Department to unfold me. We had fun on the toys at the park - it's a VERY good park.

But, come bedtime, there were tears - searching and calling for "Mommy and Daddy" - and although I had not been worried about my ability to handle it, there was something different about Dahlia. Other kids cry "for help"; they want to be held and comforted and I'm good at that. I will rock and cuddle for hours if necessary.
Dahlia did not want to be held. Dahlia did not want to cuddle. She wanted her Mommy and Daddy. Her crying was of a private and desperate nature. She buried her head in her pillow and her little shoulders shook in her personal grief.

I cry myself as I read this because it touched something deep inside me. I, too, was a two year seperated from my Mother and though I don't remember it, I've heard stories about my screams at the train station and clinging desperately when my Mother came to visit.

I feel sure that the Sims, while good people, did not believe in coddling or cuddling a grief stricken child. I suspect, I cried in private, alone and uncomforted by anything except the promise of return my Mother made each time.
The depth of that seperation and loss was triggered by Dahlia - I doubt she was as injured as I by the whole thing - but her grief was very real and painful to watch helplessly. She just would not accept my offer of comfort - I wonder if I, too, rejected Tanta and she was not the cold Englishwoman I portray.

I'm grateful that Kelly's suggestions of bubble bath and sleeping on the futon worked because I would have had a meltdown if I had to continue to observe this little girl in her grief.

She is so adorable, such a bright and shining little personality - and she has such depths. I hope I'm around long enough to see how she's going to turn out. She may know how to manipulate people, but I doubt her skills reach the level of intensity that this incident reflected, I think you just have to believe that she was grief stricken by the seperation but the next time will be easier.

I learn a lot from watching my grandchildren (and my children) grow and change. I look for bits of myself that might show up but mostly, they are all their own people coming from the womb with personalities already in place. It is a marvel to me to see and get to know each one. To find out if they are loving, smart, playful, whatever. And naturally, because they are "mine", they are all those things and more.

Carol asked about loving a child and how consuming she was finding it. I, too, have been consumed with loving my children and grandchildren. I'm not sure if everyone feels that way - but, for me it was a surprise. I was not a child who liked to play with dolls. I had no younger siblings to love or hate and I was not around young children. So the intensity of my emotions was a surprise - and a concern - was this normal? What is normal? How do I live with this without inhaling the children? or excluding my husband? It's still a balancing act - a source of insight, but also learning about myself and how to love and let go of those I love.

But, don't kid yourself. I may let go - but I NEVER stop loving.