The Longest Shortest Time

Leg Book: Part 1

Last night we decided to hold out on giving Sasha Benadryl before bed, thinking we’d give it to her when she woke up at 2 a.m. But miraculously, my husband’s alarm clock went off this morning before we heard a peep out of Sasha. No Benadryl, no middle-of-the-night rocking or soothing. Just silence. Wow. I’m not sure how that happened.

Or could it be this?

Someone recommended to me that to pass the time and ease Sasha’s anxiety I should make a book with her chronicling what happened to her leg. We started the book a couple days ago—me writing the words, her providing the visuals. I had thought at first that I’d make it more of a coloring book, with me doing the illustrations and her doing the coloring. But it became clear really quickly that she DID NOT LIKE Mommy using the pen. So all of my contributions to the book are done pretty hastily.

Anyway. Here’s our process. I write a page. Then I repeat aloud what the words say over and over and ask her to choose a colored pencil to show me what that part of the story felt like. Then we read the pages we’ve done. She listens so intently when I tell her the story of her leg that I think it must be registering. Below is what we’ve come up with so far. (Read left right, left right. Click on images for larger views.)

We’re going to cross one day off that calendar each morning. I’m hoping she starts to recognize that the day that the cast will come off is getting closer and closer. And we’ll be adding more pages about doctor’s visits and progress with sleep and what Sasha will do when her cast comes off.

But here is what I wonder. You know how when you are in the middle of a longest shortest time and you become convinced that this hell is your new forever? I can’t help thinking that Sasha had become convinced that this cast was her new forever. And maybe working on this book has untangled some of the mystery for her and given her hope that she will indeed walk and run again. Is it possible that processing the story of her trauma in this format has helped to ease her anxiety in the middle of the night? Are there any child therapists or art therapists out there who might be able to answer this for me?