William shows us what we are made of

Surgery. Surgery. Surgerrrry. 

I knew there would be surgery from the time William was about 4 days old. The word has swooped in and out of my mind for 9 months, disappearing as I redirect my thoughts within seconds to not have to process it, but the day came and the day also went and now we are recovering from an emotional week we either didn’t expect, or didn’t accept ahead of time. It's hard to tell the level of denial I buried myself in. 

Let's get the facts out of the way. William had to have a Urology related surgery (*the branch of medicine and physiology concerned with the function and disorders of the urinary system). And he is fine, and actually taking a good nap as I write this. However, he endured an almost 4 hour long surgery and what scared me more than anything was that he was put under general anesthesia. I have my own fears around anesthesia in general, so this was hard for me to face head on. 

I had been home from my Arizona trip (read about that here) for 1 day before I had to start packing up and prepping for surgery. I was mostly worried about how William would do being woken up at 5am, and having to continue to fast from the night before. Thankfully, this child had no issue going without his morning bottle.

Praise Jesus, for real. 

We were for sure entering the waiting room with the youngest patient that morning. 1 day shy of 9 months old, he had the waiting room wrapped around his finger. We played with his new barn yard friends, courtesy of Aunt Brittany on the floor and waited patiently for our check in to start. 

There is something so adorable and scary about a baby hospital gown. Everything in baby size is SO cute, including this, but besides on Halloween, you don't want your baby in one of these! We were dressed in a yellow gown with orange baby socks, cruising around the waiting room. 

We had a child life specialist come in first to tell us she was there to support us that day and ask what scent William would like for his mask to be put under. Banana was the winner. Then our Doctor came in and went over exactly what she would be doing. 4 corrections were going to be made. Most of my questions were for the anesthesiologist who came next.  Everyone was great, looking us in the eyes, being clear, being patient and making friends with William. 

We only had a few minutes left before they took him back. We sat together, him starting to fall asleep in my arms, getting sleepy eyes watching everyone outside the waiting room get ready. They came in, arguing over who got to hold him on the way back and just like that he was in surgery and we were waiting. 

Immediately I cried. One of those shameless cries, where you’re in public in a waiting room knowing everyone outside the doors is probably looking at you. In this case, they knew why I would be crying so I didn't have to worry about hiding it.  That was nice, to just cry openly while my husband held me. 

We pulled it together and went for a walk. Trying to make time pass by doing anything. I went to the children's gift shop and bought him one of everything I could carry. I Skipped breakfast because I would rather puke than eat. All the regular, anxiety- ridden emotions were in full effect. 

William came out of surgery about 4 hours later. The nurses did  me a favor and had us come in after he was awake and playing with a toy already. I voiced my concerns about seeing him be put under, and I think they connected the dots and let him fully wake up before bringing us back. The picture that now lives in my memory is walking it to see him sitting up, playing with a nurse. That helped a lot.  

He was easily discharged because he is a champ. We headed home and William did fairly well for the first day, but the next few were spent sleeping sitting up and holding him, and staying up all night, listening to him cry. All these things are to be expected, but I don’t think I was mentally or emotionally prepared to hear my baby cry in pain the way he did for a few days. 

My husband I got through it, but it definitely felt like the last 5 days have been straight survival mode and we aren’t quite in the clear yet. Its similar to the first few weeks he was born. Just not knowing what you are doing or how to take care of them, or what their cry means. 

We barely showered, stayed in sweats, dreaded the times when medication wore off, avoided the night knowing sleep wasn't coming, but today we are both back at work. Which feels all too soon. Add it to the list of hard shit moms (parents) have to do.  

Overall this is what I know. We are blessed to have an otherwise healthy baby. I now pray differently for parents who live in the hospital. I admire families who stick together during hard times with their children (let me tell you, Will & I had a few moments this week that were real). There's a whole world out there with babies who go through things, and parents who have to be the solid foundation through it, but I also know that being a parent is nothing short of being a superhero. 

Just when you think you can't hang on for 1 more minute, you are sitting up at 3 AM holding your baby, sleeping sitting up, wondering when the last time you ate was, then swiftly remember it doesn't matter because it's not about you anymore and telling yourself over and over and over “you can do hard things”. And then actually doing them.