There are many parts of parenting that are hard. I don’t need to tell you that. The whole world is more than happy to trumpet the difficulties inherent in raising children. We all know about the sacrifices of time and money and personal space, the push and pull of wanting to be both here and there, the physical pain of getting them here in the first place (by birth or adoption, I’m here to tell you). We walk in knowing it won’t be a cakewalk.
And then, one of our kids faces a giant we can’t fight and suddenly, we learn it all over again: parenting is hard.
My first taste of the heartbreak came when my first baby endured one of those newborn heel-stick blood tests. It was administered by a particularly inept young nurse who, had she encountered me just a few years later, would have gotten about a quarter of a way into the process before I cried foul and asked for the B Team. I didn’t know it yet, but I could actually make that particular horror a little better for my terrified baby. Still, it was the very first moment when I held this piece of my heart who had been given breath and felt helpless.
I can’t do this for you, but I would if I could, I thought. And I’ve thought it a million times since, in doctor’s offices, standing by a dentist’s chair, watching them pick up the phone to make a call, witnessing them labor through decisions that have brought them to their knees in prayer. I’ve thought it when I’ve held my a teenager through a wave of nauseating pain, and I’ve thought it when I’ve seen an adolescent bite his lip holding back tears of anger and frustration over an injustice done to him before he could walk. I’ve thought it as I’ve watched one of my kids struggle through a skill evaluation he couldn’t master, and I’ve thought it as my infant son was whisked, screaming, into an ER cubicle with a crash cart.
The hardest part is their pin— emotional, physical, mental, spiritual. The hardest part is that you can stand by, but ultimately, they must do it alone.
We’ve had a month of hard parts here. A month of evaluations and appointments and hard choices and just plain struggles. We’ve had a month where things have felt big and hairy, and kisses from Momma and bear hugs from Daddy haven’t been enough to make the dragons run and hide. I can’t do this for you, but I would if I could, I’ve thought again and again, forcing a big smile, giving a reassuring nod, or gripping a white-knuckled hand.
This is the hardest part of parenting, and there’s no avoiding it. Like one of Jude’s favorite stories reminds me, “We can’t go over it, we can’t go under it. Oh, no! We’ve got to go through it!” Maybe, somehow, by going through it together, it’s made a little easier. I hope and pray that’s the case.