I was curios as to what this word "Brave" meant. This word has begun to feature quite a lot in my world. I am often told that I am brave. I often find myself telling Shabd that he's a brave boy. And since I often don't feel very brave, despite having been called this, I wonder how Shabd feels about the word and what he understands by it.
brave
breɪv/
adjective
- 1.ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage."she was very brave about the whole thing"
synonyms: courageous, plucky, fearless, valiant, valorous, intrepid, heroic,lionhearted,
manful, macho, bold, daring, daredevil, adventurous,audacious,
death-or-glory; More
noun
dated
- 1.an American Indian warrior.
I'm not sure that I am lionhearted, or plucky or audacious. I know that I suffer and I endure, not without my fair share of complaints none-the-less. Am I a good example of an intrepid warrior to my son? Do I show him, through my example that he should endure life's slings and arrows? Will he grow up to be a lionhearted man, oh I pray he will be.
Shabd has constipation and has been constipated on and off for two months now. Finally at the ends of my wits, we made a final trip to our friendly Pediatrician, Dr. Thancanamootoo. Whether it was seeing my very obvious agitation or genuine concern for the little patient, we ordered that x-rays be done. "Uhm, don't they have to lay very still for that?" I piped up, wondering how on Earth we were going to get Shabd to stand still.
And so, all the way to the clinic, his father and I spoke about what an amazing tummy he has and that they would like to take pictures of it. And if he could just stand very still and smile for the camera, that would be super. And, we'd get him a beeg present!
Shabd entered the clinic with some trepidation, children have a sixth sense about them. The fish tank overhead and the water cooler provided enough distraction to lull him into a calm state. He calmly walked into the x-ray room, politely said "Hello Aunty" to the nurse and even helped us undress him. He was intrigued by the big white apparatus and kept inquiring as to where the camera was. The "Aunty" showed him and asked him to stand very still and smile for the camera.
Without batting an eyelid, my brave little soldier boy pulled himself straight up, tensed every muscle in his little body and gave the biggest most widest brave smiles I have ever see.
"Thank You Aunty for the picture." Shabd calls off to the nurse as she leaves the room with a smile playing on her lips.
Shabd struggles to make a movement. He feels bloated and gassy and his stomach aches a lot. When he gets a particularly painful spasm, he runs to either his father or me screaming "Help me! The tata is coming!"
We help him, in the only way we know how. We squat with him, or rub his back and we sing our special tata song. When we're not home, his grandfather takes him to sit on the big potty and sings the Mauritian national anthem to him. It's very soothing to Shabd, but unfortunately not relaxing enough for a movement.One evening Shabd informs me that he's scared of making a tata. When I ask why, he replies that it is painful. I ask him to be brave as we wrestle him down, kicking and screaming and give him yet another enema. My heart breaks at having to do this to him.
His screams, tears and the painful contortions his face makes indicates to me just how painful it is for him, and I cry a million tears in my heart. If only I had the power to take all his pains away.
I hold him tightly and softly croon a song while periodically rubbing the perspiration off his forehead. Oh how I wish I could take this agony away and I curse the Gods for making my child suffer so much.
To him I keep crooning a little lilt, "Shabd is a brave boy. Shabd is a wonderful boy, Shabd is an amazing boy. Shabd is a very very brave boy. Mummy is proud of mummy's brave boy."
During the painful times, in those breaks between stomach aches and painful spasms, Shabd asks me alternatively to "shout" at his tata or to repeat him brave phrases with him.
The Shout
Mummy (speaking in a cross tone): "Tata! What's this nonsense! Please just come out now. You're hurting my child. Stop it. Just come out now. Do you hear me?"
Mummy (speaking in a gently lowered voice): "Is that okay Shabd? Do you think that's okay?"
Shabd: "Yes, it's okay now Mummy."
The Brave affirmation
Shabd and Mummy: "I'm brave like my Pappa. I will not be scared!"
The bottom line is that he simply must make a movement on his own, unaided by syrups and enemas. Yet, we're cognizant of making too much of an issue around this least we compound the concern by adding even more stress on him. So we keep going on the "Brave Boy" theme.
We tell him that we understand the pain and that we're treating that. We also ask him to be incredibly brave. To be incredibly strong. And that we'll give him a huge surprise when he goes to make tata on his own (hey! don't judge me..these are desperate times calling for desperate measures!).The carrot approach worked a total of once! Shabd is a Thomas the Train enthusiast and beamed from ear to ear at having been given a talking Percy flashlight.
Now if only we could have a repeat performance on the potty! - Glory to thee, Motherland oh Motherland of mine!
Disclaimer: There are many very brave little children out there with severe problems. I do not mean to diminish their very real struggles and bravery. This blog is about my little boy and how he's shown bravery in one little aspect of his life.
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