Before I was a mum I used to dream about holding my kid’s hand. When I see it written down it seems small but it really hurts and makes me cry because I don’t often get to.
When I taught kindergarten, and even when I was student teaching & volunteering for field trips little kids would always want to hold my hand. It was something that made me scream cry internally because I loved it. The cutest was going on a zoo trip with a kindergarten class and the teacher asked the kids to hold each other’s hands so we looked like this: 👩🏼🤝👨🏽🧍🏻♀️👭🏽 I’m in the middle and imagine we all were holding hands. I LOVED IT.
I assumed that when I had my own kid I would be doing the same. Sometimes he does hold my hand and inside I’m bawling but the times are few and far between. I need my good hand for my stick to keep me up, and my other hand is not nice to hold because it doesn’t really grasp when it needs to. It’s less of a hand to hold and more like one that’s slowly slipping out of a mitten – all limp, lifeless and cold. It’s not a hand that he can trust to catch him if he slips or to pull him to safety. The hand is attached to an arm that is too weak to lift him up. I can’t trust my body to keep him safe so I’m not surprised if he doesn’t. Now that the weather has turned my hands are even colder and Oliver will be even less likely to hold them.
I get why he isn’t into holding my hand…his other options are more appealing. Neil can carry him, throw him, lift him up, and grandma is always warm (and, it’s grandma so there isn’t a need for a reason). But it still makes me really sad. Preschool drop-off and pick-up he holds his dad’s hand and I’m lagging behind because I walk slow. My emotional self makes Neil and my child seem mean. I think they are leaving me behind, but they’re just walking back to the car.
Oliver eats breakfast sitting on Neil’s lap and I understand why; Neil radiates heat and I’m so envious.
When I was pregnant I was so warm it was lovely. But then Oliver had to go and be born and my heater was gone. He even came three weeks early, which was the height of rudeness. Just kidding he is SO warm I just squeal while hugging him to leech his warmth while he tries to escape.