little feet

Our little boy is recovering. I keep looking at those long lashes, rosy cheeks, and  sloping nose and want to keep him in my arms, warm and safe and protected.

Thank you all for the prayers and encouragement for Cormac's wee surgery. All went extremely well. The anesthesiologist and surgeon hoped he would not need to be intibated, and he successfully breathed on his own through the whole experience. The grandparents came out and down to wait with us and visit with him, which was lovely. He didn't cry until after the surgery, but he did make us wonder if he had a clue of what was coming when he gave us this look in the waiting room:

We weren't really worried--Children's is great, after all, and we heard wonderful things about our surgeon and anesthesiologist, the latter known personally to Dad Hawk. The resident shared a mutual doctor friend (who was in our wedding and is a lifelong friend of Hawk's). The nurses were funny, relaxed, and sweet. 

The only hiccup to the day was in the recovery room. I walked into a hysterical baby boy. I immediately took him from the grateful and well-intentioned nurse, but from that point forward she wouldn't let us be. Instead of leaving the mother to tend to her terrified and exhausted son, she kept fiddling and pushing comfort on him. Imagine him in my arms and another person's hands trying to push him here, move his head there, etc., all the while talking at us while I'm trying to settle him with soft sounds and touch. Ugh. I was finally able to wedge myself between a chair and a machine to get away from her interventions, sing his favorite lullaby, and within 3 minutes he was fast asleep. She then proceeded to give me parenting advice as if I hadn't been parenting the last 5 months. Brilliant.

It is experiences such as this that make me want to better hold my advice-tongue with others. There is so much value to receiving solicited counsel, wouldn't you say? I do have a habit of saying, "Oh, I had this wonderful experience, can I pass along my resources?" I must examine myself to see if I am doing so appropriately.

Oh, I was so happy to have him back! Little bandaged feet and all...

He nursed a few times, almost entirely asleep. When he finally woke 3 hours after surgery, he was soon giggling, smiling, and grabbing our faces. Sigh. Our little guy.

We walked past so many crying parents and families, so many ill children. It was tremendously humbling to be at Children's with a healthy child amidst so much battle. We met one couple who was awaiting word about their 4 year old son whose cancer returned. You could see the weight of his life on their shoulders. I didn't know what to say. So I just said, I'm sorry. He is very well loved.

I am grateful for this day. I hope wherever you are, dear friends, you are well. Thank you for taking time this day with us. 

yours,

~j & Hawk

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