When I first became a mom I thought about the conversation I would have with my kid. I dreamt about telling some of the crazy stories from my own childhood minus a part here and there.
I dreamt of happy and healthy children, who would have amazing careers and create their own little families. What I didn’t envision is that one of my kids would be ill and that he would eventually be able to tell his own amazing yet scary almost unbelievable story of going undiagnosed for 4 years and three transplants later.
And yet in all those 22 years of parenting and 11 years of being a special needs kind of mom, I never thought I would have the conversation about taking too much medicine and what it could do.
Yes, of course, I have at one time or another explained that too much Tylenol isn’t good for you. Or that one could alternate between Tylenol or ibuprofen in order to feel better.
Tonight I was reminded just how different parenting Lennon is compared to his older siblings. His oldest brother who recently completed his time in the Army and joined the life of civilians or his other older brother, who is you know just a typical teenager.
Lennon: Mom what will happen if I take all these meds?
Me: You will probably either be really sick or not wake up – ever
Lennon: Really? Would I be missing school?
Me: You would miss school and so much more. You could die – and a lot of people would be incredibly sad about it.
Lennon requires a lot of explaining. The kind of explaining that you are not sure if it will make sense or even be real to him. Lennon’s short-term memory was damaged during the ages of urea cycle disorder and so repetition is necessary and the key too much of his learning. It’s hard to figure out how much of a repetition he needs until it sticks and so I foresee that tonight’s conversation will not be the last one.
This week, next month, next year or even several years, for now, I will talk with him again of what could happen if he overdoses on *any* of his 10 medications – and what that may look like.
Tonight I hugged him tightly and called him my sunshine .. and he broke out in a song “I’m walking on sunshine”
So soon he has forgotten the conversation that tugged at my heartstrings.
Sweet Dreams my boy – see you in the morning.