Times, they are a-changing

There comes a time in every mom's life when she cannot fix what ails her child.  I know this, because I've been told by countless other moms that it would happen to me.  And now it has.

Delaney is going through something that is awful to her.  She has developed a fear of a fastpitched ball. This developed a few weeks ago after getting hit by two pitches over the course of a few days.  It rattled her at first.  Then it grew into anxiety about going to practice.

She wants to quit.  There are tearful discussions often.  Almost every day, there are discussions, in fact. They are usually broached by Delaney right before bedtime (when I've begun to think we are home free for the day), and they end with her restlessly not going to sleep at bedtime.  Result?  Fatigue, frustration, feelings of being abandoned by her parents, etc, etc, etc, and none of it good.

Her dad and I know she can defeat the fear.  We know that every practice attended gives her more of a chance of getting past this.  Her coaches are supportive and working with her.  They haven't had her pitched to by a teammate since we all talked about it.

She can do this.  But at what cost?  Will she be damaged by the stress?  Will she ever forgive us (let's be honest....forgive ME?) for making her keep going?  Will she end up hating softball and/or all sports (and she's always been active and a natural athlete)?

Can I do this?  I am a mess.  This daily stress is wearing me out.  Patience is becoming such a challenge for me.  I am almost all positively thoughted out.  Poor Aidan is being left out.  The stress of dealing with my mom's illness is crushing me.  (And I so much long to be able to talk about this with her....oh, the crushing loss!)  Rob and I are at a total loss.

The bottom line:  Softball isn't the issue.  Walking away from a challenge is the issue.  This is an opportunity for her to "kill it," to not let fear get the best of her, to know that "when the going gets tough, the tough get going."  And really, she didn't get hurt when she got hit.  She got unnerved.  BUT, she's 10 1/2.  Ten and a half.  I want to crawl into bed with her and tell her that she never has to play ball again, that she can quit.

But then what?  Quit college when she fails a midterm?  Quit her job when her boss gets crabby at her? Quit her marriage when the shine wears off after the first few years?  Quit on her kid when she becomes a basket of crabby nerves?

I want my girl back who used to let me help her.  I hope she's still there and not turned into a tweeny stranger forever.  Please, God, give me the strength to see past me and to be there for her.