Protecting Her(48)

“I never said you didn’t. I’m just saying that you can’t react that way every time he falls down.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “So I’m just supposed to let him fall and not do anything?”

“If he’s not hurt, then yes. He’ll get back up. That’s how he learns. He falls and then gets back up.”

“That may be how your parents treated you, but that’s not how I’m raising our son. If he falls, I’m picking him up and holding him.”

I nod. “Okay.”

I walk into the family room. I don’t want to fight about this. We can talk about it later when she’s calmed down, because right now, she’s very angry.

“What are you trying to say, Pearce?”

I turn and see her standing behind me.

“Just forget it. I don’t want to argue. It’s a nice day. Why don’t we go sit out on the patio?”

“He was hurt,” she says, holding my arm. “He scraped his hand and it could’ve become infected.”

She’s not letting this go. Maybe we should just have this conversation now. She acted this way with Garret when he was an infant. She took him to the doctor for every little thing. I thought she was just being extra cautious because it was her first time being a mother. I didn’t know she was still this way with him.

“Garret wasn’t hurt,” I say. “He was fine. Children his age are always falling down and getting cuts and scrapes. And he’ll get even more as he gets older. I’m only saying that you can’t react that way every time this happens.”

“You mean OVERreact.” Her voice cracks and I suddenly understand why she’s getting so upset. It’s not about me. It’s about her.

“I didn’t say that, Rachel. But you did scare him when you reacted that way today. He was crying even harder when he saw how upset you were. When I re-directed his attention, he was fine.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “I’m not saying I’m an expert on how to raise a child. In fact, I’m the last person to ask for advice. I’m just describing what I observed today. And I’m only saying it because I don’t want our son to be afraid to run and jump and play outside. But he will be afraid to do those things if he thinks his mother is going to cry or panic if he gets the tiniest scrape.”

“Oh God.” She walks over to the couch and sits down. She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

I go over and sit next to her, putting my arm around her. “Rachel, what’s wrong?”

“I’m acting just like my mom used to,” she says, her breath shaky. “She never let me do anything. She was worried I’d get hurt. If I had a bruise or a small cut, she’d race me to the doctor. And I hated it. I felt guilty. Like I’d done something wrong. I was so afraid to get hurt because I knew it would worry my mom. I didn’t want to worry her or make her sad.” She sniffles. “And now I’m acting just like her. I’m doing the same thing to Garret.”

I hug her into my side. “You worry about him because you love him.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to smother him. I don’t want to keep him from being a little boy and doing the things little boys do, like run around and kick balls and climb trees.” She sits back and wipes her face. “He’s our only child, and I’m so worried about something happening to him. Because if it does, we can’t have another. It’s just like when my sister died. My parents only had one child left and that’s why mom acted so overprotective of me. And now I’m doing the exact same thing.”

I keep quiet and leave her with her thoughts. What she said is exactly what I suspected was happening, but I didn’t want to say it. It’s better if she realizes this herself. It’s like me realizing that I need to stop working so much. Rachel made that comment the other night that triggered me to come to that realization, and now I’ve done the same for her. That wasn’t my intention when I brought up what happened today, but that’s where it led.

“I need you to stop me, Pearce, just like you did today.” She turns and looks at me. “You were so good with him and I was a nervous wreck.”

I hold her hand. “Why don’t we agree to help each other? I’ll keep you from overreacting with Garret and you keep me from working too much.”

She nods, then hugs my chest. “I like having you home.”

“I like being home.” I kiss her head and we remain there on the couch.