#route recalculation

[whiteshirtgirl]

Love in a Bottle

Not to many months ago, one of my boys decided to get a tattoo.  Ever since he was younger he had been designing ideas for what would be his first permanent marking.  He would come home from school, covered in designs up his legs and arms, and my only thought other than potential blood poisoning from the ink and lack of complete school work was, “thank goodness they can’t do this on their own when they’re kids”.  Can you imagine?  If he would have been allowed to just go get anything done, (despite the money factor) he would have come home with all sorts of crazy stuff permanently etched in his skin.  He went to a concert once, and the artist signed his arm.  He begged and begged for me to let him have a tattoo over that signature on his arm, and wouldn’t even shower until I gave in.  Despite his stubbornness, I won that battle and we took a picture of the autographed arm right before he showered. The 18th birthday came, and off he marched to the tattoo parlor, money and design in hand, ready to be inked. " How hard could it be? " The question he should of asked him self is “how painful will this be?"  He texted me a few times while I was at work, all excited.  It was the actual day of his birth, and he was fulfilling his dream.  Little did he know how much pain that dream would bring him.  It’s a very difficult thing to watch someone be in pain, even when it’s self inflicted.  It would be a lot easier to be detached and say "It’s your own fault”, or “You should have thought of that first”, but as an empathetic person, it’s pretty hard to watch someone suffer, let alone a mother watch her child suffer.  I came home from work, and there he was, sitting on the couch, holding back the tears.  I took one look at him and knew it was going to be a long night.  He hadn’t decided on the first one being a small symbol - he’d covered the entire calf on the back of his leg.  To make matters worse, a relative had called leaving a message on his phone that was upsetting, and when getting cream for his leg at the local grocery store, a secret shopper though he’d been shoplifting and tackled him in the parking lot, dragging him back in to the store.  (He ended up with an official apology from the market owner, a $25 gift certificate and a job after I was done complaining, but that’s a different story).  Seeing his face, I immediately went in to action.  I had to help.  First the pain killers - lets get on top of it. Next we talked about the phone call and the message, and I dispelled his thoughts of feeling guilty about not wanting to call that relative back.  Next, I let him rant about the grocery store incident.  I let him just go on till it was out of his system, and then went and found the cream he needed for his leg.  When I came home, I sat with him, had some dinner and just reminisced about the last 18 years and how special he is.  The next couple of days was hard for him, but he got through it.  I would have taken that pain for him if I could, but it was something he had to get through while I watched. When my daughter first started having stomach pain, I figured it was just a regular stomach ache caused by constipation. Eventually as time passed on, the pain got worse and worse, bringing us to the emergency center 18 times in a span of 5 months.  She was treated with Acetaminophen, Ibuprofen, Naprosyn, Naproxen, Toradol, IV Toradol, Buscopan, Morphine, Demarol, and even Fentanol.  The Fentanol worked, but then I learned what it really is and insisted she never have it again.  Despite that, they gave it to her on a second occasion - 3 doses - and I was very upset.  She never had it again after that, but of course, it’s all she asked for. There was nothing else I could do to stop the pain.  I was so incredibly frustrated, desperate for anything that could help.  There were many nights I sat with her, massaging her legs and back, warming hot water bottles, covering her in blankets, and then massaging her legs again.  We would put on some kind of movie, and with the combination of all of it, she would eventually fall asleep, only to repeat things the next day.  The morning would start off at a 2 or 3 out of 10 on the pain scale, and as the day progressed, by night time we would be at and 8 or 9, and sometimes a 10. One day, I was posting my frustration on Facebook, and an old friend of mine from high school, now in the US, messaged me about some alternative methods for dealing with pain using essential oils.  Quite truthfully, he could have said rub banana pudding all over her stomach and make her dance and I would have tried it.  I eventually met up with his mom, and purchased a very small bottle of peppermint oil.  Sure.  Why not?  It wasn’t going to hurt her.  We met up in a parking lot, and got the oil.  My daughter was in the car, crying from the pain.  I had her expose her abdomen and we rolled on some peppermint from this tiny bottle.  Within about 20 minutes, her pain had significantly subsided.  We were both stunned.  Perhaps this would be worth studying a little more.  (I did study more and came up with great info, but that will be saved for a different blog). Months of counseling, a long hospital stay, and even more therapeutic work along with consistent use of  poly ethylene glycol (PEG), and  Peppermint Essential Oil (medicinal grade is the only one that worked well), helped her stomach pain subside. For months it was completely gone, and I can’t even begin to express my relief.  To not have to see the miserable pain in her face every day anymore was enough to make me twirl and dance and sing.  Pain and mental health really go hand in hand.  Feel sick, or in pain for any duration, and soon you feel frustrated.  Eventually you start feeling down, and hopelessness can set in.  Over time, depression sets in and you can’t see your way out of the fog.  I have come to learn through my daughter, that the best help I gave her through some of those darkest days was just sitting with her, and being there.  That was probably the hardest part for me, because I’m a do-er by nature - not a sitter.  A hug, reassurance, and just being there for someone can be the ultimate act of love.  We can’t necessarily rescue someone, but we can definitely be there to help them through the journey. My daughters pain is back, and some days it’s not pretty.  I have refused trips to the hospital, and instead I run a hot bath, get out my oils, find a good movie, some cozy blankets, and some hot tea and we sit.  Sometimes we don’t talk and it’s just quiet, but she knows I’m there, and that’s what’s important. Don’t get me wrong, if it was a safety issue, we’d be back there in a flash. I won’t lie.  My frustration and exhaustion are very close to the surface, especially when I thought we were past this, but I’m reminded that this is a journey, not a trip.  More research.  More listening.  More counseling, and Dr.’s and programs.  Our journey ahead might be long, so it’s a good thing that my well of love is so deep

[whiteshirtgirl]

Swim

I sit in a room. The walls are a nrwly painted pale green - praceful and refreshing. In the window sits a bamboo tree, and a tiny stone Buddha hangs in the window as a symbol of peace. A straw heart with a red ribbon hangs on the wall. There's a wooden end table with a large old lamp on it to light the room at night. . The window is set at the angle so the bright sunshine can stream through the window throughout the day. Below me is my daughters room. I can hear the canter of her voice on the phone. There's an odd chuckle, here and there. I know she's on the kids help line. She's been struggling, and won't talk to me about the details, whatever they may be. I know the outline of the story, but it's the details that are eating her up from the inside out. The cutting has stopped, for now, but she's getting thinner again which is just a different type of self harm. Her birthday dinner was 4 of us sitting at the table talking, and her sitting in the corner of the booth crying and wanting to return to the hospital. "No, I won't take you back there. I will not sit in a cold room for 9 hours only to hear it's all in your head. We know what this is from." "Please, just stop the pain", she cried. It was a difficult evening. Today I feel as if my heart is a little bit broken. I'm doing my best to stay cheery, but it's been more difficult this week. I know it's wearing on my boys, my fiance, and my family, which wears on me even more. I find myself apologizing for just trying to to be a good mom. I lack the energy to stand up and do.the things that need to be done. Maybe a little cry would do some good. There is a time when you hold your baby, and you look in to their eyes and promise them you'll never let anything hurt them. Unfortunately it's a promise we can't keep. Somewhere along the lines things just fell apart a little. The puzzle box fell and some of the pieces got lost. Every once in awhile I find one, but the is still the missing few rhat keep me from putting things back together. I have no reason to be sad - I know that. All 3 of my children are alive, and are, at this moment, not in iminemt danger, and yet something just doesn't feel right. I can't quite put.my finger on it, but my spirit is bothered. The call is over, and the house is quiet. My job today will be to try and fill these walls with sunshine and somehow change the energy. One step at a time. One bit at a time. To stay in one spot is to drown. If I want to go somewhere different I must swim, so swim I shall. I'm not a great swimmer and definitely no fast, but I can swim, as long as I know there's an edge. I don't really like the water, never have, but we don't always get to choose where we are. Time to jump in the water once again.

[whiteshirtgirl]

Cake

If you would have asked me 9 months ago, or six months ago, or maybe even 3 months ago, I would not have been able to give you a confident answer about tomorrow.  Tomorrow is a very special day - my daughter's birthday.  This is probably the most special birthday she's ever had, with exception of the original one, and I don't for even one second take it for granted.

My daughter has always been a major planner, and would start on the next birthday planning, mere hours after the current one had finished.  "Next year I'm going to do this, or that....".  "Next year I'm going to invite one person, no nine people, no maybe my whole class....."  Party planning has always been a passion of hers, and if it wasn't her party she was planning, it was someone elses.

I remember when she was little.  I would be out working, would come home, and the living room would be all set up with a throne for me to sit on.  There would be little snacks, songs, maybe a little performance, and pictures together at the party she had planned for her and I.  When she was really little, there would be cookies or cheese and crackers on little dishes with tea.  As she grew up, I remember her trying to make cake with her brother, and coming home to some pretty unusual creations.  Whatever it was, there was always happiness, and always love, and always a party.

Last year was different, but she was still doing a little planning.  The stomach pains started in February.  I remember sitting in emerg in March, and her saying, "This is going to be gone by my birthday, right mom?"  "Of course it is.  This will be over before you know it."  April came, and the pains were still there.  My fiance and I decided that perhaps we should do something a little extra special, and take her and 2 friends out of town on a shopping trip.  We'd go to a hotel for night, bring in Chinese, go out for breakfast in the morning and then spend the day shopping.  We booked everything, and headed out of town after work, pain killers and prescriptions in hand.  I had bought some pretty rainbow plates, napkins and cups for us to use at the hotel, and we made little goodie bags with some silly things for them to have fun with.  Nail polish, makeup, hair bands, and chocolate were among the items essential for a teenage birthday party. I was determined the party would be good enough to put the pain out of our minds, if not for good, at least for a few days.

We got to the hotel, settled in, and the girls were having fun.  Great.  Really, really great.  It was so nice to see her smiling and laughing, even though in the background I could see she was uncomfortable.  We headed down to the lounge for a bit to give the girls some space, but it wasn't long before we felt we should probably head back.  Things went relatively well, but we knew she was having a tough time.  Regardless, we pushed forward and were determined to have a good time.

Fast forward one year.  When I think back to that weekend, it all seemed simple.  I never would have thought we would have been on this journey.  I can honestly say, there were many times over the last 9 months that I didn't know if we would be celebrating tomorrow. I have been so scared, and so distraught at times, that I wasn't sure if I would still have my girlie the next day, let alone on her next birthday.

Things are very different this year.  I have teenager that has, in many ways, lost her innocence and aged a great deal, and yet is emotionally naïve and fragile.  There has been no planning for this years birthday.  Although I have nagged for 3 months, I could not get her to plan anything.  We mulled many ideas around, but when it came down to it, I think we were both secretly just wanting to honor the fact that we made it.  Tomorrow she will bring cake pops and hot chocolate to her treatment program.  We'll go out for a family dinner and she'll spend time with the people she's closest too.  I'm sure there will be many times of the day that I will be teary.  I wish I could say we could now put it all behind us, but I don't know when that will happen.  There will be no friends, no movies,  and no sleepovers, and no pressure to entertain people with strength and energy that just isn't there.

Tomorrow I will say a little prayer, be quiet and mindful of how much I treasure the fact that it came, and she's still with me.

Tomorrow we will eat cake.

[whiteshirtgirl]

Pronouns

I grew up in a Mennonite home. Our family was based on hard work, kindness, following the rules, telling the truth, and a Christ based faith. There was always room at the table for one more. My dad would have given the shirt off his back for anyone. My mom was a little on the wild side (at least compared to the rest of us), so there was always time for a celebration or some kind of party. We had chores, and I think my first job was selling Regal door to door when I was 7. We went to church Tuesday nights for family night, Friday nights for Youth, Sunday mornings for Sunday School and Service and Sunday nights as well - we never missed. It was unacceptable to be in God’s house poorly dressed so we always had our Sunday best on, and once we were older, if we were well behaved, we could sit with our friends on Sunday night in the balcony. Our pew was second from the front on the lh side, and we’d better not be late or everyone would know.

It was a different world back then. No cell phones or computers, pretty much no electronic technology of any kind. If you wanted to communicate you had to use a telephone, write a letter, or wait till you saw the person next. Girls were girls, boys were boys, and those who didn’t fit in had to hide for fear of unacceptance and ridicule. Bullying was face to face, and as I remember it, was harsh and unforgiving. Fit in or be left out. Don’t be too fat or too thin, too tall or too short, too strict, too straight….the list went on and on with descriptive words to judge and describe you and whatever the world thought of you.

So much has changed - some for the good, and definitely some for the bad. With the invention of electronics, you know longer have to get up the courage to speak to someone face to face. Bullying happens 24/7 with the ability to challenge someone in an instant.

Lives can be threatened and changed in the blink of an eye, with no realization of consequence. Recently, an old friend of my daughters from her last school, was being cyber bullied. The texts floating around were making fun of her for being gay, a fact everyone has known for some time. The rumor was that she was going to kill herself, and the kids were all laughing and thought it was funny. My daughter found out and was horrified. While other kids were laughing, she was ensuring the safety and security of a girl she completely accepts as her friend, a person, and a valuable human being. At my daughters current school (ADTP) they are given the opportunity to introduce themselves using descriptive words so others know how to address them and so there is no opportunity to be confused about who they are. This was quite puzzling to me at first. I always thought we were given a name and that’s what we use, but no so here. In her school you have kids struggling with gender identity, kids who have been abused and mistreated by their own families, kids who have no families, and kids who are.just plain struggling. I’m sure.it’s the same as anywhere, but here they are welcomed and embraced. Piercings, tattoos, colored hair, different clothes - it just doesn’t matter, and when then say no bullying, they mean it. Even the kids hold each other accountable. There is no bullying. They can say “I prefer to be addressed as he, she, they….I’m male, female, bi-gender, trans-gender, pan-gender…..I have an eating disorder so I’m in the bathroom a lot because I can’t poop…..I have hyper sensitive hearing so I wear huge headphones all the time - I’m not being rude I’m just scared. The list goes on, and they truly understand and accept each other. They actually all really love each other. Can you imagine if we had the freedom of that in our every day lives? No judgement for your identity and what makes the you that people see? I know I’ve thought of this in different ways in the past. When filling out forms I resent having to fit in to a “divorced” column because I don’t think that moment should define my life. I don’t check Mrs. because I’m not, but Ms. has a negative connotation. I don’t like my last name because it’s not really mine, I kept it because at the time it was important to my kids and now it’s not. I’m a female, and won’t judge you, no matter what you are, even if the church and religion don’t agree. I eat sometimes because I’m sad. My house is messy because I’m over whelmed and tired. What are my descriptive words and how do I like to be addressed? How do i think of myself? What should you expect? It really made me think. Female, she, kind, caring, determined, spontaneous, hard-working, passionate, soft, old-fashioned, silly, changed….that’s a pretty good start. Can you imagine the freedom on your psyche if we could all just be who we are? How would you descride yourself if given a chance, knowing there would be no ridicule?

[whiteshirtgirl]

Decisions

It’s a very quiet house this morning. Everyone is still asleep. As I lay here in bed, pondering the day, I try to find peace in all the different sounds. I hear the bunnies rustling in their cages after just being fed, and one of the birds is having their breakfast. The furnace clicks in briefly to warm the chilly air. I can hear light traffic on the highway, outside my bedroom window. I hear a siren, and say a quick prayer for wherever it is going. The furnace cycles off, and the house is very quiet once again, but the noise in my head is very loud.

I have a decision to make. The plan for the day was small - perhaps a visit with a friend, and maybe a movie if there’s anything good playing. Now I must chose whether or not to change a light hearted day by having a heavy conversation, and deal with the potential consequences.

Part of the difficulty with having conversations with people is not knowing the outcome. I can play the scenario through my head a hundred different ways, but not knowing the potential outcome can be paralyzing for me.

When I was selling real estate, I would have great closing success because of the dialogs I had running through my head. I would spend the entire preparation time running scenarios, practicing conversations, answering questions, and dealing with obstacles, all silently in my head. It was like practicing a play. By the time I got to the appointment, I was comfortable, confident, and knew pretty much exactly what would happen just by small indicators because I had already seen the whole show - in my head.

I’m a thinker. My mind runs non stop, all the time. “What would happen if…? What if I…? I should….? Should I…….? If I say this, than what would happen? And if I do that, then something else may happen. I could make a business out of that! Hmmmm, what if I …..?” This is how I work, and it can be very noisy, and very exhausting. If channeled properly, it can be very productive and exhilirating, but if not, it can be very destructive, holding me back from making any decision at all. Like I said before. I have a decision to make. On a regular day, in a regular situation, I could ask, ” How’s it going? Everything ok?” I’d get back an answer something like, “Yeah sure. Why?” “No reason - just checking.” Most kids would probably look up and say, “You’re wierd”, and let it go at that. Now, pose that question to a kid that suffers from suicidal thoughts, self harm, severe anxiety and half the time is suffering in an existential crisis. “How’s it going? Everything ok?” “Yeah mom. Everything is ok. Why?” “No reason, just checking in……….” “No really. Why are you asking me that?” Imagine that’s your scenario. How do you answer? ” Because your counselor broke confidence and told me stuff”, or, “I know you’ve been cutting again. Can you tell me why?” Or how about, ” because every day you tell me how great you’re doing with your words, and yet every day I get more scared that you’re a ticking time bomb with no display of how many seconds we have left till everything explodes.” The later one - definitely not appropriate, at least not if I want to stay out of hospital this weekend. The middle one, maybe. Strong but uncomfortable. The first? Probably not the best idea if I ever want her to say anything to anyone again. What do I ask, and how do I answer? That’s not even really the biggest part. The biggest question really, is can I believe her answer?

[whiteshirtgirl]

The Answer is Blowing in the Wind

Every once in awhile, life just seems to be humming along, and things seem to be pretty good.  I find myself humming a tune, perhaps noticing how pretty the sky is, even wanting to bake something.  Then all of a sudden something happens.  Perhaps its a conversation that seems a little forced, a few words said differently than normal, a laugh that's just a little too loud....something just not quite right.  I'll stop for a moment, and then this little flag inside of me starts to wave, and I get this strange sensation.  I call it my spidey sense, and I know that when I start to feel it, something in the world is just not quite right. 

I remember when I was a teenager, and I had certain chores I had to do.  I always seemed to get things done, however, when it came to my room being cleaned, I always procrastinated.  I'd go ages without doing anything, and then all of a sudden, I got this strange feeling inside, and I knew something was going down.  Before I knew it, I'd hear my mom stomping up the stairs, saying she'd had enough,  she'd swing the door open to my room, but she wouldn't see what she expected.  Instead of the disaster it normally was, she'd see a clean, organized space and she wouldn't be able to do anything.  I'm sure it drove her crazy, but somehow I knew that things weren't right and the time to put things in order would be limited, so I'd better move on it.  That feeling saved my butt many times.

For about a week or so now, that little flag inside of me has been waving.  First slowly, then a little more, and then enough so that it has turned more in to a flapping banner rather than a gentle wave.  Something in my world just doesn't seem quite right, so I decided today I needed to find out.

"Hello, can I speak to the counselor?"

"Hi there, I was meaning to talk to you today?"

"Really?  I was actually calling you about something I'm concerned about."

"Oh, ok.  What are you concerned about?"

"Well, that's just it.  I'm not exactly sure, but things don't feel right.  I'm concerned I'm being lulled in to a false sense of security,thinking things are really good, like I have nothing to worry about, and yet, I'm feeling worried."

"Hmmm.  Ok, well perhaps we should talk.  There's actually something we wanted to call you about."

That's all it takes.  Right then and there, the little flag turns in to a huge waving full sized banner, flapping hard in the wind.  I knew it!  I was right!  Something is definitely not in sync.

We proceed to have a conversation and my suspicions are confirmed. 

" We were having a conversation today, and I think the self harming has happened again.  My understanding is that if anything happens and you know, that I'd be notified, but I haven't heard anything at all, so either she's lying to me, or the program isn't calling"

"Oh, I thought you knew?"

"You thought I knew?  How would I know?  Obviously she's not going to tell me, now matter how much I want her to.  I'm not so upset about that.  I'm more upset that I'm thinking life is just hunkey dorey, when really it's not.  I'm busy trust building, leaving her alone, letting her see friends and be somewhat normal, when things could be unwinding right under my nose."

"I guess we didn't think it was a big deal.  We see this so much, I guess we get desensitized.  We forget how alarming it can be to parents.  The nurse took care of it all and gave her some stuff to take care of things at home.  We thought you knew."

"No.  You're not hearing me.  I'm not alarmed at self harm anymore.  I know it's going to happen.  I'm upset because I think things are fine - and they're not.  I was caught off guard last time.  I can't let that happen again.  I just can't go there again.  The deal was you call me if you find anything like this.  How am I supposed to parent, when I'm not in the loop."

"We don't want to break confidentiality if we don't have to.  It keeps the kids from telling us stuff".

"Confidentiality?  Really?  My daughter is barely a teen - what confidentiality?"

"We would encourage you not to keep this conversation a secret.  Tell her we talked, and then we can deal with the fallout".

..............stunned.......................

We continued to discuss my concerns until I asked for them to be documented, but that wasn't it.  We hadn't even gotten to the part that they were going to talk to me about.  We continued the conversation, and my small little flag, became a huge reality check.  We exchanged emergency plans, potential crisis options, worst and best case scenarios for the weekend and then I hung up.

I think to myself, "Really?  This is where we're at?".  Deep breath.  "The Dr. said believe what I see.  I don't know what to believe anymore.  She looks happy on the outside".   Wipe away the tears.  Another deep breath.  Quick text home - "things ok?" "yup!  great!  love u mum!"  Put my apron on.  Stand up and tidy myself. Fresh lipstick on.  Go back to work and put on a happy face. "God, I hope things are ok."

Perhaps when my customers look at me, they'll believe what they see.

[whiteshirtgirl]

Mind games

How long will this go on?  How long will I be afraid to leave the phone, take a shower with the door closed, stay in a different room, or run to the corner store?  Will I ever be able to go away for a weekend?  Will I ever not be afraid or break in to a cold sweat when the phone rings?  Will there ever be a conversation that it isn't mentioned or asked?

What happens when ADTP is over?  Will she be able to adjust to a normal school?  How will the transition straight to high school work?  I'm sure skipping the rest of this year in the last grade is the right decision, right?  What happens when there isn't a nurse or doctor to run to?  How do we find the right counselor to transition to?

What happens if there's another escalation?  Do we really have to go back?  Again?  Will the help lines be enough?  Have I learned enough?  Has she?  How can I afford more of this?  Is the medication working?  How will I know?

What about my own mental health?  Will people keep judging me?  Will I always be afraid?  Will my boss judge my capabilities based on what is going on?  Am I missing out on promotions and opportunities based on my personal life?  Is it really fair for other people to decide what I can handle based on what they think, without really asking?  What if someone finds out?

Am I making the right decision changing second jobs?  Will this decision work?  Is being scared ridiculous? Will I be able to make it?  What if I don't?  What if I can't pay my bills?  What happens if I don't do well?  How will I ever be able to replace my dishwasher?  My hot water heater?  My bathroom fan?  My car?

Will I ever be able to go on a holiday?  Will my wedding ever happen?  Will we ever be able to join families?  What if they can't move here?  What if they won't move here?  Has this changed everything?

 Is it normal to feel sick all the time?  Is it normal to be afraid?  Is it normal not to feel normal?

 Can I believe what I see?

 What would I do without her?

[whiteshirtgirl]

Hotline

It's been about 5 weeks now since discharge from the Children's Hospital.  How are things going?  That's a really good question.  Actually, that's a question I have been asking myself for about 5 weeks.  The styles of communication are so different between programs, and I've become so used to the stressful phone calls, that I'm not quite sure how to operate without them.  Would I even know if something is going wrong?

Today, for the first time in over 7 months, my 3 kids and I sat down at the same table and had breakfast together.  As a mom, I can't tell you how thrilled it made me feel to see all 3 of them conversing respectfully, laughing and having a good time together.  At one point my daughter got out some crayons, and started coloring her placemat, which led to the 4 of us sitting, coloring our placemats and talking about how silly it would look.  We talked about life, politics, work, medication, and many other things.

Once breakfast was over, my oldest went his own way, and the other two loaded themselves in to the car with me to head home.  There was no music in the stereo that all of us could agree on, and neither kid brought their headphones, so once again we had to talk.  The conversation was light, and before you knew it we had reached the decent in to our town.  We passed a information sign that had listed different amenities for the town we live in, and on the same sign, was the 9-1-1 number.  My daughter looked at it and said, "really?  People need to see that?  How would you not know to call 9-1-1?"  I thought to myself, "little does she know." 

My mind raced back over all the different events since last September, and even back to last February. So many times in my life that number has gone through my head, and yet when I most needed it over the last year, it was the last number that went through my head.  I have always thought of myself as very level headed, and yet when it most counted, I didn't even think of calling that number until someone said it to me.  "Call 9-1-1"!

Next came the question.  "Mom, have you ever called 9-1-1?".  Really?  Didn't she know?  I turned and actually looked at her for a moment.  That was probably distracted driving at it's finest.  Have I ever called 9-1-1.  "Yes.  Yes I have".  My son did a choke-sputter-laugh-cough in the back seat.  "Who for?" she said.  "Seriously?  Ok, don't blow it.  Just respond calmly", I thought.  "Once for your brother when he jumped out of his high chair and knocked himself out cold.  Once for your brother when he took a swan dive off the stairs and knocked himself out." "How about for me?"  "Yes, twice for you".  "Really? When?".  "Once on the day, and once for The Event".  (That's how we refer to things - as neutral as possible.)  She stopped for a moment and cheerfully said, "Really?  Oh yeah.  I guess that makes sense".

The three of us then began a conversation about 9-1-1, when you use it, and what happens.  Then for some reason she said, "I guess it's like those other hotline numbers - like the kids help line.  Just call, and there will be someone who answers, no matter what the problem is."  That struck me funny.  Since when did she know about the kids hotline?  I know that part of safety planning was supposed to be having those numbers available, but I haven't thought about them since then.  So I thought, "what the heck.  I'm asking".  "Have you ever called the kids hotline?"  "Yep.  One of the days when you left me at home for a bit I figured I should call.  It wasn't an emergency or anything, but it doesn't need to be".

I've been thinking about that a lot of the day.  I could panic, be upset, probe further, but I'm not going to be any of those things.  I guess I would love it if I knew that every time my daughter was having an issue, or even a potential issue, she would trust me enough to reach out to me, but I'm learning that doesn't happen.  I'm also learning it doesn't really have anything to do with trust. The reality is, kids don't reach out to their parents, and I'm sure that's why these hotlines have been created.  What ever the reason is, they don't feel comfortable saying how they may be feeling at the moment, so instead, they text a friend, email someone, fb a contact, or in this case, they call a hotline.  Instead of being upset, I'm going to be glad that she has learned enough to use the tools that are there when she needs them, and can be comfortable telling me about it after.  8 months ago my daughter wouldn't hardly even talk to me, and now, she talks to me about so very much. 

One of the best counselors I've encountered said to me once, "You be the mom - we can't do that.  Let us be the professionals - you shouldn't have to do that too". 

My biggest ask today would be, if you have children, program the numbers in to their phones, and post them by your home phone.  There are actual apps that can be on the screen and all they have to do is press the button to talk to someone.  Have the help there that they need, when they need it.  Explain to them that there may be a time when they need someone to talk to, and that you're ok if it's not you.  The important thing, is that they know they're not alone, and that there are many forms of support out there.  Trust the systems that are in place, and then stick to your word, and don't take it personally if they reach out to someone else.  At least they reached out. 

One more thing.  Program emergency numbers into your own phone.  You may be stuck in a situation, and when you most need it, the last number that will come to your head is 9-1-1.  It didn't come to me - and I don't know what I would have done without it.