Friday, September 11, 2015

The day I yelled at my mom.

When I was a kid, my sister and I were never allowed to talk-back to our parents, let alone raise our voices at them.  And, to be quite honest, I can't remember ever breaking that rule, until the evening of September 11th, 2011.

Catelyn's dad and I had watched the staff rush in.  We watched them determine next steps.  We scurried with them down the hallway.  We were there (okay, I actually sat in the hallway) when Catelyn had her CT-scan.  We sat on a bench in the P-ICU while a Dr. told us something important, and the only part I can recall is him following up with, "I'm sorry I was so blunt," to which I replied, "It's okay."

Our emotions were running on high as we were moved into a different room to make phone calls.  Our nurse, Bill, stood with us.  My mom answered my call.  I cannot recall exactly how I started our conversation, but I quickly moved to, "Catelyn's in trouble."  My mom questioned, "What do you mean?" My only response was to basically repeat myself, much louder, with, "SHE'S IN TROUBLE!"  Bill gently approached me and asked to speak with my mom.  I gave him a brief introduction and handed the phone over.

My poor mom.  Never, until that day, had I ever thought of raising my voice at her, and yet, in one desperate moment, I did the very thing I was raised not to do.

As the memories of September 11, 2011 roll through my mind, I cannot help but feel badly for having yelled at my mom.  And yet, I believe, it's actually because I knew it was safe to let my emotions fly with her, that I did it.

Love you mom.  Thank you for letting me yell.

1 comment:

  1. I'm sure your mom understands the pressure of that day. I also believe that even if Catelyn was yelling at you, you'd grab her and hold her tightly just to have her for one more moment.

    Our moms are the people we are usually the most vulnerable with because we believe they will continue to love us no mater what.

    As I raise two boys with special needs, I can't tell you the number of times they have come home from school and been really crabby at me. If I'm smart, I realize they aren't upset with me at all. They have just worked so hard at school that they can't keep it together any more.

    I'm even guilty of calling my mom when I'm totally stressed out. I often cry overwhelmingly until she gently guides me to the next step. Sometimes that means I can handle the situation in the end, and other times that means she comes to take the challenging child for some bonding time with Grandma.