Are you breathing?

Is your heart beating?

Are you conscious and answering my questions?

Well, then you’re probably ok.

This is basically how I parented Jackson while Adelaide was alive. Unless he had a fever, was vomiting or screaming in pain I just figured that whatever it was would heal itself. Sure, when he fell off his bike and scraped his knee I would give kisses, cuddles and bandaids -  but when you’re monitoring your other child’s vital signs to keep them alive there just isn’t much cognitive space left to worry about the long-term effects of a standard boo-boo. By no means was he neglected - I truly loved them equally -  but the mental load scales definitely tilted toward Adelaide. How could it not? The thing is that my parental concern barometer doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to resettle.

Whether Jackson intuited this or just inherited a love for the dramatic I’ll never know for sure, but over time Jackson’s injuries and illnesses became choreographed theatrical performances. He has perfected the side-clutching grimace and open-mouthed silent cry, though, his limp could use a little work.

I joke, but deep down I am actually a little concerned. Even though 40lb Adelaide and her accompanying 400lb cognitive presence may no longer be with us, when you’ve held your child through countless seizures it is really difficult to give equal weight to anything that’s not life-threatening or physically apparent. 

I believe it really boils down to perspective:

Do I have a perceived superior perspective on what to be concerned about because of all I experienced with Adelaide?

Or, because of that perceived superior perspective will I miss something in Jackson’s health that I otherwise would not have?

But perspective effects far more than just the way I care for my son - it also effects the way I respond to everyone in my life. On more than one occasion I have needed to remind myself that just because someone else’s nightmare may have been my standard Tuesday, it doesn’t lessen the concern for the affected party. It doesn’t make me a better person or a stronger person - it just means that we have faced different challenges in our lives and as a result have varied perspectives. Relating to someone’s else’s hardships should never be treated like a competition.

One more time: Relating to someone else’s hardships should never be treated like a competition.

By no means is this an easy lesson and has required consistent work on my part to remember.  I particularly feel this when I’m reading a book or memoir about people with healthy kids. Sure there are other challenges - but their kids are healthy. How lucky to worry about what school they will go to instead of what doctor you can get them in to see. And then I remember that I lived this life with Jackson once upon a time - blissfully ignorant. However, while that ignorance blinded me from life-or-death trauma, it did not shield me from stress, pain and worrying altogether. The concerns of Kelly 2.0 (Working-mom-of-a-toddler) were still completely worthy and valid given the perspective of life I had lived so far. I certainly don’t fault my former self for having limited experience to inform my life perspective, so I can’t exactly fault others either. 

While I may have cornered the medically-complex parenting life perspective, there are many other life experiences to which I remain blissfully ignorant. Parenting an adopted child from another country for example. I have so much still to learn, so many perspectives yet to gain and still many others that I will never experience first hand. There is no way that we can be aware of every lived experience however, it is important to recognize that these experiences result in unique perspectives and inform how we process and interact with the world around us. Or, in Jackson’s case, give cause for Oscar-worthy performances at a very young age.