Guilt can be crushing

  When Hannah was 9, she had her first grand mal seizure.  The scariest thing about this was I was away at the time so I couldn't even be with her.  Hello, Guilt, my old friend.  Here's what happened...

It was April 2009, a little more than a month before I met my husband Steve. I was working as an 8th-grade science teacher in Newtown, CT.  Each year, the 8th grade students had the opportunity to attend a three-day trip to Washington DC that ran from Wednesday morning until Friday night.  I was one of the chaperones for my cluster so I arranged for Hannah's father to watch her while I was gone.  Bright and early Wednesday morning we boarded the buses for the 6 hour trip to Washington DC.   About four hours into the trip, I was watching a movie when my phone rang.  When I answered it, the only thing I heard was Hannah screaming.  In an instant my heart sank and I felt like I was going to vomit. This is the call no parent wants to receive; something is wrong with your child and you aren't there.  I don't know how I did it but I was able to shield my reaction from the students around me and maintained control of my voice.  Hannah's speech therapist, Fran, said she was calling from the emergency room and that Hannah had a seizure in school. She told me she rode with her in the ambulance, she was okay, and that her father was on his way to the ER.   I asked her why Hannah was crying and she said she thought it was because she was in an unfamiliar place.  Guilt slammed into me like a wrecking ball.  I was away with other people's kids when my own needed me.  I felt completely helpless.  I was at least 4 hours away and couldn't get to her.  Fran reassured me that Hannah was okay and in fact, after a few minutes, I heard her calm down.  I spoke with Fran for a bit longer and thanked her for being so kind to Hannah and riding with her to the hospital.  When I got off the phone I broke down crying.  The guilt and anxiety of not being with her felt like a 100 pound weight on me. However, I wasn't in a place where I could let myself fall apart so I gathered every bit of strength I had and pulled it together.  I told my cluster-mates what happened and they were incredibly supportive saying they'd help me get home if that is what I wanted to do.  My sense of responsibility to my students and colleagues was in conflict with the desire to be with Hannah.  Unfortunately, this emotional tug of war was not new to me. I didn't want to feel like I wasn't pulling my weight or doing my job. This dedication to my job fought with the self- judgment that if I didn't get home immediately I was a bad mom. Mom guilt is a real thing!  In the end, I decided to wait until we got to DC to determine my next step. By that time, I knew I would be able to speak with her father and would get a better handle on how she was doing.  And I did get a handle on it. When I called him she was doing well.  She was still a bit tired but was watching her videos and appeared to be happy.  It was going to be okay.

The lesson I learned is that there were other people in Hannah's life that could be there for her; it didn't always have to be me. In fact, it was better if it wasn't always me. Not only did I need to feel others could take care of her, she needed to know she could depend on others. It was a tough way to learn that lesson, but it was important and I'm grateful for it. If you are a parent that is afraid to leave your child, I invite you to slowly take a step in the direction of acclimating them to other people. Even if it's just for an hour or two. It will help you see your child can be cared for by someone other than you and it's a great opportunity for your child to expand their horizon. Take it one step at a time and remember that you've got this and you're not alone.