Last night as I was tucking Hanna into her cozy bed, I reached up to turn off her lamp and reminded her to turn off the DS Lite she was playing. She sighed a deep sigh, rolled over onto her side and said in the darkness, “Mom, sometimes I just have to have a BIG SIGH when I think about all the things I have to do just to make it through . . .” her voice trailed off into the quiet and my heart lept into my throat.
For an eight-year-old, Hanna certainly *does* have a lot on her plate. She does multiple blood sugar tests and shots each day, counts her carbs at every meal and tries to pay attention to whether she is feeling “low” or “high” at any given time in between. There is a lot of work on all our parts that goes into making it through every single day. However, we rarely discuss how these things affect her daily routine — around here it’s just part of life, pretty much like taking a multi-vitamin or wearing contact lenses. In the 4 years post-diagnosis, Hanna has had maybe 3 meltdowns about this routine. Three. So I hesitated briefly, knowing that what I said at this point would mean the difference between tears or giggles. I decided it was too deep to be left alone, even for eight.
“What do you mean, sweets?” I tried to keep my tone light as I perched on the side of her bed in the darkness. (Me and the 500 webkinz.)
“Well, it’s just that when my game doesn’t save, I have to start all over again. I have to fight the dragon again, and then there’s all the other levels — it’s just, it’s really hard.”
(Thank-you God for nice dark bedrooms.)
“I’m really sorry, baby — I’m sure you’ll do just fine tomorrow.” (deep breath, deep breath — NO laughing!)
And she will. She always does.
Because even though there will always be new dragons to fight, for now, the only ones that concern Hanna are the ones on her DS Lite. Which tells me we are doing something right. And that all is as it should be in the world of this 8 year old.
Amazing how God knows exactly to which parents He can entrust each child ~ oh and of course one does not even need to be biased to see Hanna for the exceptional child that she is.
Hi, it’s your long-lost-cousin-from-Oz. ::waves::
I think often of that little dragon slayer. Not only is she the only one of that generation that seems to look like my side of the family (apart from the Oz cousins) and love ballet (instant kinship there) but of anyone else in the family, she knows what it is to fight those particular dragons.
There are times when I am having a particularly bad day with my own dragons, when my body feels like its own iron maiden or I’m frustrated with doctors and I think about Hanna. How is such a little dragon slayer (with such pathetically skinny legs) supposed to have the strength for that fight?
I doubt I’ll ever have the chance to meet Hanna. The truth is, I’m just not well enough to travel those distances anymore. But of all the second-cousins-across-the-sea-once-removed, Hanna is the one I carry closest to my heart because she’s a dragon slayer, like me.