Why I talk to my 3 year old about dying...

I am a runner.  Or at least I think I can call myself that.  Yes, my last race had me barely hanging on and it's been 2 years since I've seriously trained for anything.  But, if you count the 15 years before that when running was a BIG part of my life, I think I can say that I know the pain and effort that goes into disciplining the body.

 However, no amount of training can prepare you for racing towards your child when he/she is calling out for help.  In fact, you don't need any kind of background in running to get to your child in record time.  I've learned to hurdle baby gates, clear piles of toys, and take 3 stairs at a time in order to get to one of my babies calling my name.  My reaction times have become quicker all around just by being a parent.  The other day, I caught a grape rolling off the table.  That's not easy.  (OK. It sounds easier than it is but, believe me guys, this was one fast rolling grape.)

Any parent will agree that when we hear the sickening thud of a baby falling off the bed (don't judge; i know you're guilty too) or a feverish child whimpering in the dark we will run, not walk, to the rescue.  Heck, we'd even teleport if needed.

Last night was such a night.  As I was reveling in the fact that both kids were down and I could finally eat some cake and catch up on the news (because that's what i do to find out what the heck is going on around me while I'm busy changing diapers, feeding hungry mouths, and keeping kids from death by electrical shock), I heard it.  It was soft at first.  One or two muffled sounds were enough to make my mommy ears perk up.  Then came the, "Mommy!"  Now this wasn't the tone of "mommy, I have to pee" or "mommy, I had a scary dream."  Those would be dealt simply with a "GO BACK TO SLEEP!"

No, this was the kind that I dread hearing.  I flew up the stairs, and I say "flew" because I don't remember feeling anything under my feet.  I crashed into her room and saw what I hate seeing.  She was squirming, gasping, coughing, and scared.  I gave myself 3 seconds to assess the situation and decide which route I would take: the EPI or the nebulizer.  Was this an allergic reaction?  Should I call 911?  Or should I give her a neb treatment and run the risk of wasting too much time if it wasn't an asthma attack?  Feeling confident that she hadn't eaten anything that she was allergic to, I went with plan B.  I still wasn't sure about my plan knowing that if she was going into shock, I would essentially be allowing her to suffocate to death.

Let me pause here so I can give provide some context for her condition.  A has severe life threatening food allergies.  But more than that, she has a history of anaphylaxis.  Sometimes her condition deteriorates so rapidly that we barely have time to get her help.  And, therefore, one false decision could threaten her life.

Resume.

I grabbed all that I needed for her treatment (in the dark) and turned on the nebulizer.  She fought me the whole time partly because she was still asleep and partly because she was scared.  When you can't breathe, the last thing you want to be is constrained.  I didn't have a choice, as usual, as I wrapped my arms around her and stuck the mask on her face.
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TANGENT alert:  I hate being the one holding my child down.  I hated holding her down for her vaccines when she was a baby.  I hate holding her down when the nurses have to put an IV in and I hate that I'll probably have to hold her down more in the future.
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After a minute or two, she began to relax and I was finally able to talk to her.

"A, are you okay? Can you breath?"
(Nods her head)
"You couldn't breathe, so you were scared?"
(Nods her head again)
"You're okay now. Mama's here."
(Nods her head and falls back asleep)

As I held her, I thought about a conversation I had with my mom a few days ago.  I was running some errands and left A with her.  When I got back, my mom was visibly disturbed.  I asked her what was wrong and she took me into another room to tell me what happened while I was gone.  Apparently, A wanted to play a new game with her, a game called "Heaven."  She wanted to pretend that she was in Heaven and my mom had to look for her there.  My mom began to lecture me about talking to A about dying because, you see, she overhead a conversation I had with A just that morning.

"A, remember not to eat anything that has dropped on to the counter.  Only eat what's on your plate."
"Why?  Because I could die?"
"Yes, because you could die...But you don't have to be scared of death.  Remember, this is not our home.  We're just staying here for a little bit. Heaven is our real home."
"But I don't have a room in Heaven.  Where would I live?"
"You have a room there, A.  Mommy, Daddy, G, Halmonee, Halabujee, we all have rooms there. And even if one of us goes there first, we can wait for each other.  We can look for each other in Heaven."
"Oh!!  I can look for you when I get there!!"

Yes, this is the very conversation my mom was referring to and some of you might agree that I probably shouldn't talk about dying with my 3 year old daughter.  I would have said the same thing if I didn't have the life experiences that God, in His infinite wisdom, allowed me to have.  But, I know better now than to judge.  You see, I have very good reasons to talk about death with my daughter.  Here are just three of those reasons.

1)  It's a reality

“In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.”- Benjamin Franklin

Well said, Ben.  Death is inevitable.  In A's life, premature death is a harsh reality.  Her doctors are so concerned for her life that they cautioned us to adopt a "new normal" as soon as possible.  What is that, you may ask?   A "new normal" means that A doesn't ask if she can have a cookie.  She asks what is in the cookie.  I don't ask her if she's washed her hands before dinner.  She asks me if I've washed my hands before I give her any food.  I usually can't get away with giving her a kiss without her asking if I ate any "itchy" foods.  Our new reality is that she, at the age of 3, has to be responsible enough to protect her life.  So while I'm aware that death is not an appropriate topic for a typical 3 year old neither is having to memorize all her life ending allergens, or having to sit still while I inject a 22 gauge needle that is half an inch long into her thigh, or having to practice restraint when watching children around her eat all sorts of things that look really really delicious to a 3 year old.

2) To address her fears 

Symptoms

By Mayo Clinic staff

Anaphylaxis symptoms usually occur within minutes of exposure to an allergen. Sometimes, however, anaphylaxis can occur a half-hour or longer after exposure. Anaphylaxis symptoms include:

• Skin reactions, including hives along with itching, flushed or pale skin (almost always present with anaphylaxis)
•  A feeling of warmth
•    The sensation of a lump in your throat
• Constriction of the airways and a swollen tongue or throat, which can cause wheezing and trouble breathing
• A feeling of impending doom
•  A weak and rapid pulse
• Nausea, vomiting or diarrhea
•  Dizziness or fainting

Can you believe that one symptom of anaphylaxis is "impending doom"?  I can attest to this.  When A was about 2 years old I gave her some soup that had chicken and chestnuts in it.  The doctors suspected she was allergic to chicken but not enough for a major reaction so I didn't think it was a big deal to "try" some chicken.  What I didn't know, was that she was 100% allergic to chestnuts.  After two bites of soup, she didn't want to eat anymore.  Being completely naive, I urged her to eat more.  Two more bites later, she began to fuss.  We were at a party so, for the most part, I was preoccupied.  I remember that she wanted to be held.  Instead of picking her up, I told her to behave (mistake #1).  She began to cough and wheeze so I gave her the inhaler.  Not 5 minutes after, she started to vomit profusely.  We should have known something was off, but we dismissed it.  We cleaned her up and I even went into the bathroom to cry a little thinking the worst was over (mistake #2).  After I composed myself and stepped back out, I could see that her reaction was only getting worse.  We left the party and attempted to drive her to her hospital 45 minutes away (mistake #3) .  We didn't even get to the end of the street before she was clutching at her throat and gasping for air.  We pulled over and injected her with an EPI and within a minute she began to breathe normally.  I held her in my arms while she clung to me and cried.  The one thing I will NEVER forget from that night was the way she looked at me during the worst of the reaction.  Her eyes told me something was wrong.  She was scared but, instead of listening to my instinct, I let my practical self take over.  I didn't think she was having a reaction because I wrongly thought I hadn't exposed her to anything.  As soon as I saw the look of fear in her eyes, I should have known that something was terribly wrong.  I'm sorry, A.  To this day, I can't look back without feeling sick.  I'll have to write a post dedicated entirely to the guilt that I have from all the mistakes I've made as a mom.  

My daughter, at the age of 2, experienced impending doom.  Fear of death.  I can't protect her from all harm even though God knows I'll try everything in my power to keep her safe.  What I can do is prepare her to face her fears, even the ones that are unspeakable, hence my conversations with her about faith, God, Heaven, and even death.  

Is this heavy stuff for a kid?  You better believe it.
Is it necessary for hope in a broken world?  You better believe it.

3) To grow her faith

Children are known to have the purest of faith.  Why?  Because they'll genuinely believe anything you tell them.  Need examples.  How about these: Santa Claus, Elmo, Mickey Mouse, "I'll buy it for you later."

"I tell you the truth anyone who doesn't receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it." Luke 18:17 NLT 

It's no wonder God wants us to be like children in our faith.  When's the last time we looked at something in absolute wonder?  When's the last time we believed something at face value?

A has one of the most natural faiths I've ever known.  Maybe it's because she's a child, maybe it's because she's been through so much, maybe it's because her Sunday School teachers rock (I'm her teacher this quarter so I'd like to think it's #3) but whichever the case, she knows that God is real.  He's more real to her than Mickey Mouse which she recently told me was a guy in a mouse costume.  Thanks for that, M.  She talks about God without being prompted, well maybe sometimes it's prompted; Her dad is a pastor after all.

I talk to A about death, about God, about her situation, about life because I want her to grow in her faith even more.  I want to teach her that God is good.  He is good in all things, even in death.  His hand never leaves ours.  A reminded me of this a few nights ago when she suddenly out of the blue asked me how she healed so quickly from her herpeticum sores.  Before I could think up a scientific answer that I could dumb down for her, she said, "It wasn't the nurses.  It was GOD (pointing upwards).  He always holds my hand.  And he will never earth the flood again!"

Yes, child, his promises are true.  He will never earth the flood again or flood the earth again.  However you say it, the truth is still there!  He holds us close, especially in death.  I see this BIG faith sprouting from such a little body, and it gives me the strength and hope that I need to weather our life's harshest storms.  You are right, indeed, sweet A.  He will never leave or forsake us.

In the midst of all the unknowns, a baby paves the way for faith.

As I face the valleys and hilltops of this life on earth, I find lots of peace in the fact that my girl knows where she's going.

SO...Death do your thang but, know this, we got you beat.