Four days into summer day-camp, Seth’s tics started up again. The vocal and the whole body clenching. Has he been exposed to strep? Is he just wiped out tired from all the fun in the heat? Riley said a little girl at camp questioned him about it. “Why are you shaking?” she asked.
Riley said Seth blew off her question. He later went on to audition for the role of Charlie. The campers will be performing a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory play at the end of camp. He sang I’ve Got a Golden Ticket. I didn’t even know he knew the song. He’s only seen the movie once, during IVIG. Riley said he nailed it. She said he appeared fearless. And girlfriend wouldn’t lie.
We’ll find out if he gets the part on Monday.
He doesn’t tic when he sings.
So, Seth tics, and he just gets on with it. I watch, and go slightly into panic mode, worrying about long term effects, feeling responsible for fixing it. I so want to help this boy.
Yesterday in meditation, I was focused on Seth and suddenly felt a universal connection with all mothers who watch their children suffer. I was the mother in the third world country with not enough food to eat. I was the mother whose baby was born with a birth defect. I was the mother whose child was killed in war. I was all mothers.
I am not unique. We all want our kids to be okay.
It isn’t enough to pray for Seth. I must hold space for all mothers. All children. All suffering.
Maybe I can’t fix it, but I can love. I can send love. I can love your child as much as my own. I can understand that my suffering is not more important than yours. I am not able to do this consistently yet. I am selfish.
But every moment I touch upon it, I am healed.
That is the power of my boy.