When Emma met our doctor for the first time at that appointment, she had a laundry list of concerns and worries: bad tummy, big tonsils, poor hearing, and a few others I'm sure she would rather I didn't broadcast on the Internet. She also had to have two shots or "jabs" as I still like to call them. (There are quite a few British words I am not keen on giving up.)
So after discussing all of her woes and worries with our new and exceptionally lovely doctor, Emma braced herself for the dreaded jabs. I sent Sophie out of the room since I knew she was due for jabs at her next appointment and since I was certain that there would be no shortage of drama and tears in that room. Emma did not disappoint. She screamed and wailed at the pain of the first jab then cried out, "Wait!!" before the second one. The seasoned nurse went ahead with the second one anyway so that it would all be over and, in doing so, ignited a fresh round of gut wrenching howls, "But I wasn't ready!! I said WAIT!!" The screaming continued for a few more minutes while I said helpful things like, "Get yourself together, girl!! Your sister is going to think someone is killing you in here!" Sure enough when we opened the door, we found a rather white-faced Sophia standing there who said, "I did NOT like the sound of THAT!"
Emma eventually got over it, but her sad face and puffy eyes earned her a long and generous hug from Dr. G's grandmotherly receptionist as well as a hot fudge sundae at the Dairy Queen. (I found myself wondering where my ice cream was every day when I had to have those horribly painful heparin injections in my poor thighs after my c-section. Perhaps I just didn't scream enough.)
Now fast forward to today. We turned up at he doctor's office for Sophia's appointment where things unfolded very differently. Soph is as healthy as a horse with no aches, pains, worries or complaints. She wears her seat belt, can tie her shoes, and ride her bike without training wheels. Check, check and check. She eats a healthy varied diet, drinks plenty of milk, exercises and poops like a champ. Check! She goes to sleep well and sleeps all night. Check plus. Sophie and her sister are, not surprisingly, very different animals.
But we still had those nasty jabs to endure. So...how did Sophie fare? She took a few deep breaths... and took those shots like a man. That's what she did. There wasn't a whimper, a tear or even really a grimace to speak of. I thought the nurse (the same one who had thoroughly traumatized Emma) was going to scoop her up and kiss her. What a champ!
After all of the band-aids were in place, Sophie looked at me and asked, "Why on EARTH was Emma screaming and crying about THAT??"
So I had to explain, "To Emma, those shots were really awful. For her they were scary, and she thought they hurt a lot. So Emma cried. You are not Emma, and you didn't think they were a big deal. That's okay. You two are just very different." This answer satisfied Sophie, but left me reflecting on the bigger picture. Emma is a sensitive soul. She feels her pain and the pain of others so deeply. Her love and her thinking are profound. One day her sensitivity may indeed turn out to be a great gift, but as a little girl these gifts often bring heartbreak and a few tears. Sophia, on the other hand, tends to take life by the horns. She likes to jump in and try anything. If she gets hurt, she dusts herself off and goes right back in. She will dance at your birthday party (even if no one else is). She knows what 'funny' is, and can prove it. I am often in awe of her confidence, and her contagious laughter is no match for any straight face.
What I love is the fact that these two very different girls can be such best friends (and occasionally worst enemies). What a blessing that they are such polar opposites in terms of their gifts; they have so much to learn from each other.
"She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child." ~Barbara Alpert
1 comment:
As a little sister, this post made me think. My big sister (because she was the oldest) was always the first to try something new, whether it be tennis or broccoli casserole. I watched her with curiosity and usually much admiration. I decided which things I would try based on her response and experience in these uncharted territories. When my sister and I went to the doctor's office for chicken pox or school physicals, she would typically go first. I did often hear her cry down the hall (she hated needles!), but I also saw her exit the exam room with a stick of gum and a Star Wars sticker. She survived, so it gave me confidence, knowing that I would, too. That's what big sisters do for us, which is why I believe little sisters are always a little braver. So, thanks, Julie!
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