As with many parents in this weird period of time we call COVID life, I found my daughter in need of a COVID test. She’d come home from school the previous night, threw some tantrums, fell asleep on the couch, and didn’t wake until the next day. She hit a fever of 102F, complained of tummy pain, and missed all her nightly cartoons - very unlike her.
She’d previously had a COVID test done before, so she knew what was coming: Cotton swab waaaay up the nose and some painful burning up where no cotton swabs (or other objects) should ever go. As the lab tech came out of the building and began working his way down the line of cars, she began to flail in her car seat and wail.
“Mommy, I’m scaaaared! I don’t wanna do it! I’m so scared! I don’t wanna, I don’t wanna, I won’t do it!”
Of course I lied to her and told her it would be just fine, and then I lied through my actions and acted calm. And this part, the validation of her feelings, not a lie: “Sophie, I know you don’t want to, I know you’re scared. Mommy doesn’t like to do it either. But sometimes we have to do things that we don’t like because it keeps other people safe.”
Aaand… none of it helped. Because of course it’s one thing to soothe and validate feelings in a therapy session, and another thing entirely when the “client” in question is your terrified and strong-willed 5-year-old daughter, who is apparently resistant to what other (sane, wise, incredible) people pay money for.
We next moved to bribery and screen time. I turned on the Amazon app, typed in “stuffed animals” in the search bar, gave her my phone, and told her I would buy her ANY toy she wanted after the test. Now, this did the trick. Are you taking notes? This is therapist gold right here!
As the line of cars pulled up and our turn arrived, the flailing and wailing intensified, and this time she mounted a new defense: She began to firmly pinch her nose with her very tiny, weak fingers that any person with an ounce of strength could open in a millisecond. Um, did she realize how ridiculous this was?!
I looked back at her and felt the strongest mixture of laughter (a little uncontainable) and sadness for her fear. And then it dawned on me - isn’t she just as absurd as the rest of us? The pinching, the flailing, the wailing - these were all attempts at controlling an outcome over which she effectively had no control.
How often have you overanalyzed, regurgitated, rehashed something over and over again, as if by doing it, you can actually change the outcome? I wish I hadn’t said that awkward thing - then people wouldn’t think I’m so dumb. Maybe if I phrase this in just the right way, h/she won’t leave me. If I can plan out everything to the minute, I’ll be less stressed! If I choose the thing that other people want me to choose, then they’ll love me. If I do enough research and pick just the right [dress, house, car, partner], then I’ll finally be happy.
In truth, none of it matters, because no matter where you go - there you are.
What actually does help?: Connection (with people who get it and care), perspective (that all good/bad/painful/joyful/transcendent/etc. experiences and feelings have a shelf life and expiration date), and knowledge of self (am I upset just because of the current situation or is this tied to something deeper in my life?).
In the end, Sophie’s little fingers were pried off her nose. By me. She put up a good fight, but ultimately, that swab was going to do its thing regardless. Afterwards, she bawled, “Mommy, I’m saaaaadd!!!!”
I know, sweetie, I know.
As we drove away, her sobs turned into sniffles, then thoughts about what toy she should get, then dwindled lazily into our usual conversation.
And, as it turns out, I didn’t lie to her after all - things actually and truly did turn out just fine.
How are you pinching your nose?