But I'm a mom, and an educator. I've spent enough time around children who are out of control that the idea of the meltdowns didn't scare me. I was ready. Bring it.
The first few came and went without much problem. Though I realized quickly that my seven year old son, who is the size of a five year old, has the strength of a ten year old. Yikes. Yes, they got uglier than I ever expected.
But I learned how to cope, how to keep us both safe, and keep the damage to a minimum. But there's another element that I may never learn to cope with. The reasons behind these outbursts. The emotional trauma that is hiding behind those eyes. Knowing he is crying for help, and all I can do is soothe him with words he doesn't understand.
I recognize there's quite a quandary behind my feelings of inadequacy and the knowledge that I'm the best person for this job. The slim measure of confidence I glean from knowing I am the one he needs to be with during these raw moments, is far outweighed by the helplessness I feel at the time.
But I trudge forward leaning on what I know, versus what I feel. Bolstered by the knowledge that these meltdowns won't last much longer, nor will the gap in communication.
I also lean on the fact that each time I come through for him, his little heart heals a bit more. And my little man learns a bit more what it really feels like to be loved.
If the price for my son's heart is a few well fought battles then so be it. I will fight (and win) every single one with pride.
Because I am his mom. And that's what moms do.