On Being Sensitive

From 12/13/06

Oh my God, Jacob is JUST LIKE ME. He is so sensitive. He needs a nap today but it's not looking like it's going to happen so I just put in a quiet-time nature video for kids that I got at the library the other day. It's just scenes of animals in their natural habitat set to soft music. I thought it was a safe thing to get for Jacob, but apparently not.

If there is one word to describe me, it is sensitive. It's a blessing and a curse at the same time. It means I am extremely aware of detail, which again, can be good or bad depending on the situation. I am also very attuned to my own feelings, as well as other peoples' feelings. I pick up 'vibes', imagine people are mad at me, and generally spend way too much time mulling these things over. If something bad happens to someone, such as a really horrible crime or the death of a loved one, it might as well have happened to me; that's how deeply my empathy runs.

I know I can never see March of the Penguins because I've heard at some point a baby dies or something, no matter how amazing the film is supposed to be. I can't even watch something made up like Finding Nemo because even though it's fake, I believe if it can be thought up it has probably happened to someone at some point and it just kills me that that suffering existed or exists somewhere in the world. Bambi? Forget it. The separation of parent and child, by whatever means, is, in my mind, the worst thing that can ever happen in the world. I probably would have been like this whether or not my father died when I was nine, but I think the trauma left it's mark forever on my psyche and the fact that it did happen is what causes me to walk around every day of my life believing that it's going to happen to me again.

Yesterday a friend sent me a link to a website and a youtube video both dedicated to this woman's three year-old son who was killed in a car crash. I told myself not to click on the link, that it would be bad, but something overtook my fingers and the video loaded so fast I didn't have time to change my mind. Set to sad music, the slideshow of pictures really did a number on me. I couldn't stop crying or getting snot and tears all over the place. Jacob was really freaked out. Watching that short video wiped clean all the plans I had for the first half of the day, as it took me that long to recover from the sadness of it all.

Jacob has been very inspired with all this construction going on. The inspector has been here, the cement truck has come twice now. There are all kinds of things to watch, and as soon as the workers leave, Jacob sets to acting out all he has witnessed. The only toys he's touched for a week now have been his Tonka truck and his tools. He's taken to improvising with random household objects; for instance, the massager thing has become a jackhammer that Jacob drills into the ground with. Jacob's demeanor is very intense of late, he's extremely focused on the 'job' and has been in a zone. All that stored up macho-ism and bravado is pouring out. Seriously, when he's in the 'zone' and I try to interrupt in order to have him go to the bathroom, or say, eat (because at this point he would go all day without food and never miss it), he lashes out a little and yells at me.

I think Jacob has been a little out of balance. He's usually a very sweet boy, and exibits an even mix of normal play behavior and on-another-planet imaginary play. When we took the dogs for a walk this afternoon, his inner mama's-boy started to come back. I realize now that he hasn't really been outdoors for several days, except to go to the car. Jacob needs to be in nature to center himself, he is like Zach and I both in this regard. I had both dogs on leashes, thus unable to hold Jakie's hand, nor did I feel the need to since we take a short path through the woods to get to a dead-end street. He was very afraid of cars coming (there were none) and each noise meant imminent danger to him. My plan was to get Jacob tired on the walk and then settle him down for a nap. Back at home he was unwilling, so this is when I put the video in.

I was actually planning to sit down with him to watch it, but you know how you always have 'just one more thing before I sit down!' As I was in and out of the room Jacob kept asking me questions about what kind of animal that was or what was such-and-such doing, and where is his mommy? In my distracted going-about-the-house-business flurry, I didn't hear the concern in Jacob's comments, "Oh, she's sad her baby isn't there," and, "Where is the baby now?" In the kitchen just before settling down with Jacob I realized he had started to cry. As I rushed in to the room he said, "Mommy, can you come sit with me?" and my heart imploded a little. He was really, truly upset about the fact that the adults and babies weren't together. I could see that he was trying to hold it in, his face all twisted up. I could feel his pain, that chest-crushing, gut-wrenching yearning to hold onto all that is good and safe and pure.

The scenes kept switching, and each new one was further proof of the cold, hard truth that we won't always be together. I kept explaining to him that just because we couldn't see both baby and mom on the screen, it didn't mean that they weren't right there with each other. I don't know if Jacob started to understand it, or if tiredness just finally overtook his little body, but he eventually let himself be soothed.

This is what it is like to be sensitive. I am proud that I have produced a child who will add to the world in this way, but I am sad for him that each hurt will be felt as a lasting bruise on his soul. And if my biggest fear is that one of us should be taken from this Earth, wouldn't you think I should be able to take solace in my faith that even though we could no longer hold each other, we could still be together in spirit? But I can't imagine anything worse than a the ache in a mother's arms because her baby is gone, or the longing of a child who can't understand that Mommy isn't coming back. And the possibility of that in my future is beyond words.