Page 13 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
I knew I couldn’t truly protect him from everything, and getting cuts, scrapes, and bruises was what being a kid was allabout, but he’d already gone through somuch.Surely, it wasn’t wrong of me to want to protect him from any more hurt?
Eh.
I’d love to see a therapist about everything I’d gone through, but honestly, I couldn’t afford it. I was infinitely grateful that my son’s state insurance had covered several counseling sessions throughout his treatment. Sometimes it felt like I was a bit of a lost cause anyway. But Max had a bright future ahead and deserved all the healing and help I could get him.
“Let me test their tightness. Remember, you want it to feel very snug, especially around your ankles, but it shouldn’t hurt.”
“Yeah, I remember you saying that.”
“Good. You’re doing great.”
“You don’t have to butter me up, Mom. I think I’m more excited about this than you are.”
Whoops, caught out. Not that I was entirely surprised. Max was exceedingly insightful. If I had to guess, it was from spending such a long time in a bed, only interacting with people through speech and video for the most part. He certainly didn’t get it from me, because unfortunately, I’d spent a good part of my thirty years being particularly gullible.
Sigh.
“I promise I’m excited. Just a little nervous too. It’s okay to be both.”
He reached up and offered his hand as I stood. “I’ll be super careful, Mama. I promise.”
“Thank you, big man. That means a lot to me.”
There was a long pause while I studied his perfect face and got all up into my emotions yet again. I drove some of my online friends crazy with how much I talked about all the little things or documented them, but what was I supposed to do? I had watched my son struggle to breathe while his medical teamadvised me to prepare for the worst. If that didn’t make a parent incredibly grateful, what would?
But naturally, it was a bit awkward for Max, and I didn’t quite realize how much until he cleared his throat in a dramatic way. “You ready to skate?”
I chuckled slightly, feeling a bit sheepish for being so sentimental, but I steeled myself against the wave of fear.
“Yeah, buddy, let’s go skate.”
“Can we hold hands while we do?”
“Of course. I’ll only let go when you’re ready.”
“Thanks, Mama.”
It was strange, really. Growing up, I’d been an outlier in my community for swearing off children and not wanting a family. But now? Now I wouldn’t give up Max for the entire world. Would I have preferred it if I had been able to bring him into the world under better circumstances and his father hadn’t ghosted us? Sure.
I supposed that was the difference between mechoosingto continue my pregnancy rather than beingexpectedto spend my twenties and thirties popping out a huge brood.
“You ready?” I asked Max as we stood on one of the lips into the rink. There were indeed a lot of children and a fair few parents on the ice, but it wasn’t too crowded. There would be space for Max to learn, especially if he stuck to the side.
“Yup!”
Slowly, carefully, tentatively, I stepped onto the ice and turned to Max, still holding his hand, and began to instruct him on what to do.
We didn’t rush things, much to my relief, and Max was definitely wobbly at first, but I was pleased that he understood it was important to try to fall forward rather than backward. Also, I was still able to maintain my balance while holding onto him and countering any wavering on his part. It had been a long timesince I was on the ice, but apparently it was a bit like riding a bike.
With blades involved.
Ugh, that kind of thinking was definitely going to mess up the whole not-being-nervous thing.
I promptly shoved that out of my mind and kept focusing on Max, who was having a brilliant time. We spent the first half hour with me holding his one hand and him holding onto the wall with the other, and then we took a break. Unfortunately, the food on hand waswaytoo expensive for me to get, but I had packed some of Max’s nutrition bars that helped him gain weight. When he’d first gotten sick, I knew keeping his weight up was important, but it wasn’t until he lost a third of his mass that his doctor explained to me just how significant maintaining weight was to improve his survival rate.
After our break, he was ready to get on the ice again, his cheeks a rosy red. I was tempted to tell him we needed to rest a bit longer, but I didn’t.
Really, I deserved a gold star for the day.
