The other day, my son found a red pen and decided to draw some pictures. He was busy for a while, making all kinds of doodles, and then called me over to see one he made for me:
“I love it!” I said. He asked if I knew what it was. I guessed, “Maybe a duck?” “Nope,” he said, “It’s a sad bunny.” “Oh, why is it sad?” I asked. His answer was barely a whisper, so I asked him to repeat – “Lyme Disease.” I felt a lump in my throat.
“The bunny is sad because it has Lyme Disease?” I asked. He nodded seriously and said, “It’s you. You’re resting in bed.” I tried to hide how sad I felt in that moment. I told him, “Sometimes I’m sad that I have Lyme Disease too, but I try to remember that I will get better.” He was silent.
Thinking quickly, I suggested he draw a second picture – of me, happy, when I get better. He liked this idea, and grabbed a quarter that was beside him on the table to trace a circle for my head. He seemed happy with the finished product, but not entirely convinced. So I suggested we write something on the picture to remind us that Mommy WILL get better. He is starting to write a lot and do some spelling recently, so I knew even though he couldn’t read the words, he would understand. And he did.
When we left the pictures on the table to go do something else, we were sure to leave the happy one on top, as a reminder. But the fact is, there are still days when I am that sad bunny. He knows that. I have no answer for him as to when the happy Mommy in the second picture will be here to stay.
No parent wants their child to see them as a sad bunny. I love that little dude more than anything, and I hate for him to be sad about me being sick.
There’s no moral of the story here. No neat bow to tie this package up in. Just a crappy moment from the trenches of Lyme.