The Fears we Can’t Predict and Promises we Can’t Keep

Fear exists everywhere in the world.

It’s been described in metaphors as the monster under the bed or by Dr. Seuss as the thing under the rug. Fear exists in the strongest of souls.

Fear thrives in the uncertainty of what comes next.

With the reality of COVID 19, there are many who fear when they’ll receive their next paycheck or when their place of work or business can open again.  I understand this fear as I was scared when an English professor at my previous college challenged my commitment to my program when I had As, gave up a job for my internships, and had a child newly diagnosed with autism and a baby.

The fear nearly consumed me that I would not be able to help my husband provide for our family.  This feeling of I’m not good enough, and I’m not committed enough followed me for about three years with the fear these would be exposed.

We all have fears.  Sometimes they change.

They evolve.

They devolve based on our experiences, strengths and how we choose to challenge them. For me, I chose Yoga to plant a more confident mindset.

My daughter, Corrie, had fears, but most of the time, displayed a confidence I wish I had possessed.  She wanted to go onto a stage.

Corrie would show any person paying attention.

Correction: Corrie would make sure you’re paying attention before she started.

“You’re not watching,” she said. “You have to watch.”

Corrie was so detailed in how she paid attention to what occurred.

Then she’d show you the right way to come on to the stage. She’d show me how she placed her hands, and then perform a song.  She loved to sing “Happy Birthday, Jesus” in her mock performances.

But I had fears that made my previous challenges seem like small turtles in a lake.

When Corrie went to time out in her room, she was scared she’d be locked in it.

“You won’t lock me in my room, will you, Mommy, like Cinderella was?”

My heart burst.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

I promised I’d never lock her in her room.

Her body was locked in a casket.

There were fears I couldn’t predict, such as losing my child to something unrelated to her lungs. We’d done everything during COVID 19 to keep her isolated because she was at-risk due to her previous issues with pneumonia. She made it through the October to March season without bronchitis or pneumonia. She’d gone through the COVID 19 shut down seemingly healthy.

There are fears we cannot predict.

There are promises we cannot keep.

I felt like an incompetent mother for being unable to save my daughter, or to respond sooner on May 27, exactly a month ago, to her stomach.

Corrie’s ability to withstand pain was beyond anything I’d ever seen.  She was not scared going from the doctor to the ambulance. She had so much courage going on the ambulance as she communicated with the paramedic.  When her Oxygen was low, she wanted to take off the mask.

That’s the Corrie I hope people will remember or know.

She was aware and alert like she would tell you to watch a performance on stage.  She hated oxygen masks with which she was familiar from the time of her birth. Corrie was determined to take it off because she hated the way it felt.

I always say, “I’m stronger than I look.” I’ve stared at the monsters under the bed in their face, and had to go from a shaking child to an adult ready to fight it.

Thank you to everyone who reads and tells me my family and I are in your thoughts or prayers.  I write not only because it helps me, but there are a number of families who’ve experienced this heartbreaking kind of loss.  I am stronger because of Corrie, and she’d want me to keep walking.

By Rebecca T. Dickinson