Lightening My Load

This morning when I subbed for fifth graders, the teacher left an assignment called “What’s in your backpack?” We first watched a video about empathy, featuring cute little characters that discussed feelings, perspective, and trying to understand what others are going through. After that ended, we talked about how we all carry different emotions in invisible backpacks, and that we can’t see what each other is carrying. I asked which emotions someone might be dealing with that would make their backpack heavier. The students shared answers like fear, sadness, and loneliness. Then I asked what was happening in their lives to cause those emotions.

“A math test.”

“My sick cat.”

“My friend is mad at me.”

My grandpa is in the hospital.”

“Someone ate my donut.” (insert giggles)

Next, I asked which emotions could make a backpack lighter, and got answers like excitement and love. Then they told me things that elicit those feelings:

“No school!”

“An A on my test!”

“Snuggling with my dog!”

“My favorite food for lunch!”

After a (loud ) discussion about feelings, I asked if it’s possible to lighten someone else’s backpack by doing something kind for them, and showing them empathy. The answers were (silly) but beautiful: “Yes, invite someone to play at recess.” “Tell them I understand how they feel.” “Share my donut.”

As we were just finishing the activity, I got a text from my daughter saying she felt sick, then a call from the high school saying she was in the nurse’s office — again. She hasn’t been feeling well for quite some time and just keeps pushing through. We’ve been to doctors and have more appointments lined up, but for now, there’s nothing I can do except take her home and give her medicine that may or may not work.

After picking her up, a text came through from my middle son, who goes to college on the East Coast. He’s been having tremendous shoulder pain that’s kept him from playing baseball (the love of his life) all season, and no doctor out there has helped. I talk or text with him multiple times each day and tell him to hang in there until we can fly him home to see a doctor back here. I offer reassurance that he won’t hurt forever and can probably play ball again, but for now, there’s nothing more I can do.

I realized when I got home today that MY backpack feels heavy. As a mom, there’s no worse feeling in the world than not being able to stop my kids from hurting. I used to be able to buy them baseball cards or give them a popsicle, and everything would be better. Many times, I was flying by the seat of my pants and figuring out the parenting thing day by day, but I was usually able to pull some kind of mom magic out of the air to make things okay. Now, only medical expertise can fix what’s bothering them, and I don’t have it. I also can’t promise them what the future holds.

The feelings weighing me down are helplessness — and a little bit of loneliness. Am I the only one with teens and twenty-somethings who misses her mom magic? The only one who isn’t doing enough?

Luckily, this afternoon as I began to wallow in my inadequacies, I received some reminders that lightened my load. First, a call from a friend who saw I was upset at school (and took my class when I had to leave). She’s had a sick child, too, and gets how hard it is when you don’t know what the problem is.

I’m not alone.

Then, a call from a doctor’s assistant with suggestions for how to make my girl feel better. “Try this medicine, have her drink this. Oh, and Mom? You’re doing a great job.”

Reassurance.

I may not be able to take my kids’ pain away, but someone knows I’m doing everything in my power to try. For now, that’s enough.

With my own backpack a little lighter tonight, I hope a parent reads this who’s carrying too much weight. I know how you feel. You are not alone. You’re doing a great job.

And I’ll share my donut with you any day.