Rest in peace, stroller
Mr. Isaac, or Ice-Man, is more like me than I ever guessed, poor boy. It may seem like a surprise to discover that there was a time when I was shy and timid. Just because I am not so much that way socially does not mean that I have shrugged off my timid personality and my fear of new things. Just ask my mom and she will concur that I am not good with change. It scares me.
Today I watched Isaac crying his little heart out at the pool during swimming lessons. I saw a flashback in my mind of a little toe-headed girl, clinging to her instructor for dear life and screaming for her mother.
Isaac’s teacher kept tricking him. I could see the distrust on his face. Every time he did what he was asked she’d trick him and grab him, making him go in the water with her. He knew it was going to happen every time but my dear boys are very obedient and when an adult tells them to do something, they usually do it. There was no escape for him. He had to let her grab him.
And oh was he mad and scared.
It broke my heart.
Tonight, we went for a walk. The sun had finally come out after seven days and I jumped at the chance to make us all go for a walk. We walked only a short ways when our beloved stroller came to the end of its life. One of the wheels broke right off. We knew it was going to happen, and frankly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I don’t know how many miles we have put on that stroller but it is A LOT.
Our stroller symbolizes peace and grief for me. When Isaac came into our home I grieved the end of a happy, happy life with my little buddy Will. Our bond started not in my womb unfortunately, but with that stroller in those moments where it was all that stopped his crying during his days of colic.
I grieved the day we put the stroller away and found a double stroller at a garage sale. But then, the bigger stroller symbolized a heart that grew larger with a new baby to love. And our walks with the double stroller were beautiful. The connection I made with my two babies was partly solidified on our morning walks when they requested stories and I happily agreed by thinking of stories about dinosaurs and diggers off the cuff.
Then a third life started growing in me and I found myself sharing my sadness with Mike on our evening walks. How will our walks continue? He calmed my fears and reminded me that we had another stroller hiding in the garage. There was still room for another baby. A few mornings after Eli arrived I tried taking the three of us on a walk. Eli was secured in the sling and the boys were strapped in the stroller. I barely made it up the hill (it was a hard hill to climb without pushing 60 lbs).
That day I said goodbye to my morning walks with the boys and learned to embrace our evening walks with Mike.
Now, our stroller is broken. The boys no longer want to be strapped in. Tonight, I find myself trying to let go of a beautiful season of my life.
When we got back to the house with our broken stroller, we let the boys ride their bikes around the block. Will whole-heartedly jumped on his new bike. Eli stayed strapped in the double stroller and Mr. Isaac suddenly felt his world coming in on him. He stared at Will’s old bike and burst into tears realizing that it was time for him to move on from his trike. He cried big tears and our coaxing and reassurance did little to comfort him. He clung to his tricycle and would not try the bike. We tried to tell him that he was too big for the tricycle now and that he would love the bike if only he tried it. Before long, he would forget about his tricycle and only want to ride his bike.
But then I recognized the fear in his eyes from the morning’s swimming lessons and my heart felt sad for him.
I understood.
Take your time, Ice-Man. One day you will be ready for bigger and better things. In the meantime, take baby steps.
We’ll do it together.
Today I watched Isaac crying his little heart out at the pool during swimming lessons. I saw a flashback in my mind of a little toe-headed girl, clinging to her instructor for dear life and screaming for her mother.
Isaac’s teacher kept tricking him. I could see the distrust on his face. Every time he did what he was asked she’d trick him and grab him, making him go in the water with her. He knew it was going to happen every time but my dear boys are very obedient and when an adult tells them to do something, they usually do it. There was no escape for him. He had to let her grab him.
And oh was he mad and scared.
It broke my heart.
Tonight, we went for a walk. The sun had finally come out after seven days and I jumped at the chance to make us all go for a walk. We walked only a short ways when our beloved stroller came to the end of its life. One of the wheels broke right off. We knew it was going to happen, and frankly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I don’t know how many miles we have put on that stroller but it is A LOT.
Our stroller symbolizes peace and grief for me. When Isaac came into our home I grieved the end of a happy, happy life with my little buddy Will. Our bond started not in my womb unfortunately, but with that stroller in those moments where it was all that stopped his crying during his days of colic.I grieved the day we put the stroller away and found a double stroller at a garage sale. But then, the bigger stroller symbolized a heart that grew larger with a new baby to love. And our walks with the double stroller were beautiful. The connection I made with my two babies was partly solidified on our morning walks when they requested stories and I happily agreed by thinking of stories about dinosaurs and diggers off the cuff.
Then a third life started growing in me and I found myself sharing my sadness with Mike on our evening walks. How will our walks continue? He calmed my fears and reminded me that we had another stroller hiding in the garage. There was still room for another baby. A few mornings after Eli arrived I tried taking the three of us on a walk. Eli was secured in the sling and the boys were strapped in the stroller. I barely made it up the hill (it was a hard hill to climb without pushing 60 lbs).
That day I said goodbye to my morning walks with the boys and learned to embrace our evening walks with Mike.
Now, our stroller is broken. The boys no longer want to be strapped in. Tonight, I find myself trying to let go of a beautiful season of my life.
When we got back to the house with our broken stroller, we let the boys ride their bikes around the block. Will whole-heartedly jumped on his new bike. Eli stayed strapped in the double stroller and Mr. Isaac suddenly felt his world coming in on him. He stared at Will’s old bike and burst into tears realizing that it was time for him to move on from his trike. He cried big tears and our coaxing and reassurance did little to comfort him. He clung to his tricycle and would not try the bike. We tried to tell him that he was too big for the tricycle now and that he would love the bike if only he tried it. Before long, he would forget about his tricycle and only want to ride his bike.
But then I recognized the fear in his eyes from the morning’s swimming lessons and my heart felt sad for him.
I understood.
Take your time, Ice-Man. One day you will be ready for bigger and better things. In the meantime, take baby steps.
We’ll do it together.
Comments
One day when he grows up, maybe he'll handle the goodbyes to children better than I do. It never gets easy.
I understand, too.