Because Max was born with congenital heart disease, I simply did not let him cry as an infant. I held him constantly from birth until the day of his surgery. During those four months, any crying triggered the calorie-wasting counter in my head. All I could think of was what a strain crying was on his tiny body and how if I lost him to this heart problem, I would have wasted precious time with him. Allowing Max to cry was inconceivable.
Now he is two and a half and I have to put a patch on his strong eye every day at 7am. And every single day, he cries.
I've shut off the calorie-wasting counter in my head but his crying is still so jarring. He's been through so much, I just want us all to be able to enjoy him being a healthy 2 year old boy. But after breakfast it's time for the patch to go on. While his sisters are getting ready for school, he plays happily with his airplanes or fire trucks. I have to shove myself towards the pantry to get the eye patches out. He sees me coming with the “eye bam-bam” (as he calls it) and starts to run away from me.
“No eye bam-bam!” he screams. “Somebody, help me!”
I calmly explain that we have to do this while gently putting a glittery jet plane over his good eye. And then he really screams, crocodile tears soaking the patch and my shoulder. For a little while, twirling him in circles helped. When that lost its appeal, I started jiggling on my knees until he giggled. When that stopped helping, I downloaded Cars Toons on the iPad. That was a good diversion for a while but we are now back to basics: tickling and nibbling toes, which usually works eventually.
His sisters sometimes try to help. One sister even wore a patch with him for a few days and for two days, he didn’t cry at all with the patch. But then the magic was gone.
"There, there, Maxie-poo," his older sister says. "If you wear your bam-bam you can earn a toy."
We have a reward chart but earning a new airplane doesn’t seem to matter when someone’s forcing you to forsake your good eye. I bought seventeen different types of patches but even sparkly glitter trains and shiny silver outer space “bam-bams” still take away his clear vision.
So like any good parent, I occasionally let him eat a mint chocolate ice cream sandwich at 7am to help him calm down. I try to tell myself that it does not hurt and that it is working. His eye is getting stronger. I think of children who need insulin injections at this age and how hard that must be for the family. And I try to think of how normal it is for a two and a half year old boy to throw a daily fit.
Yesterday, while his sister was playing soccer, Max found the little baby doll she had left in his car seat. He was talking to the little plastic baby and telling him that he needed his "bam-bam" now. He said it was going to get dark but it was okay because the doctors said so. He asked me for a "bam-bam" for his baby so I tore off a tiny bit of packing tape. He pretended to make the baby cry and said the same things I say when I put it on him, all except for the part about it getting dark. That must be what it's like for him.
So this morning, I couldn’t do it. He was being so sweet and playful and happy. I just couldn’t make his world dark and blurry, even if the doctor says so. So I handed the patch to his dad and he put it on and then Max came running to me for comfort. He still cried, but it was a little less. Maybe this will work for a little while.
