I’m going to take a little break from the Kuyper Coffee Dates and tell you about our yesterday, do you mind?
Yesterday our newly 2 year old son Caedmon had outpatient surgery to fix a hernia of sorts called a Communicating Hydrocele. It was the first time I went through surgery with one of my children and let me tell you, there is no such thing as minor surgery when it’s your child on the table.
We went in at 7am and the first surgery in the pediatric urology department had been cancelled, so we were up first. They rushed us through pre-op so they could get a jump on their surgical schedule. Caedmon was so angry with us and the staff because he was confused and so thirsty from being denied liquids that morning.
I remember crabby too when I couldn’t have water the morning of my C-section and unlike Caedmon, I understood what was going on.
After pre-op we met with the anesthesiologists and they asked one of us to come in for a few minutes and hold him while they held used the gas mask to sedate him pre-anesthesia. So I donned the paper surgical gear and followed the wheeled crib to the operating room, we got him to breathe into the mask and I watched his eyes roll back as he relaxed on the table. I was an emotional wreck inside, weak in the knees, although I kept my cool on the outside.
I was quickly escorted out of the operating room and back to Kel where we exchanged “now what?” looks. We decided to grab some breakfast and bring it back to the surgical waiting room, although I was racked with guilt the whole time. What kind of Mother can just eat eggs while her son has surgery?
We sat there staring at the patient status screen waiting for Caedmon’s number to change from the green “Operating Room” status to the the pink that indicated he was in “Post-Op.”
Before we knew it my cell was ringing. It was a member of the surgical staff informing us that they were finishing up with his surgery and needed to see us in the consultation room.
We waited for the surgeon in consult and he soon came in with a huge grin on his face, everything had gone very well. There was a small hernia, but they fixed it and “his scrotum looks really good.” That’s right, my son’s scrotum is beautiful inside and out.
I’ve talked about and photographed that poor boy’s junk far too much as of late… someday when I hand it over to his wife I’m going to tell her how hard we worked to keep it ship shape. I hope she appreciates it…
Anyway eventually Kel was called back to help bring Caedmon out of anesthesia and I waited, alone. Apparently he woke up screaming, as is normal with toddlers, and it was no small feat to keep the IV and electrodes in while they finished monitoring him.
After what seemed like an eternity, they wheeled Caedmon up to the door where I was waiting, clad only in a diaper and chugging his second sippy cup of apple juice.
We were beyond blessed to have his surgery done at OU Children’s Hospital in Oklahoma City. If you’ve never been through the doors of a Children’s Hospital, the only way I know to describe it is… “a beautiful, terrible blessing of a place.”
You walk in and become immediately captivated by the whimsy of the decor and architecture, and then you remember that it’s a place centered around the care of very sick little people.
We shared the hallways with babies, wearing halos on their necks. We passed by tiny bodies hooked up to countless tubes and cords. I was constantly thankful that we had access to this level of care and at the same time praying that the need for it would go away completely.
My breathe kept catching in my chest and I wanted to hug every mother I passed or shared the waiting room with. I wanted to look them in the eyes and say: “I don’t know you, but I am praying from the depths of myself for you and your little person.”
I woke up this morning still praying for them, even from 100 miles away.
“God be with the mothers at the Children’s Hospital this morning.”
“God heal their babies, return them quickly to their toys and morning routines. Send those families home with their beloved little people, all better and ready to dance and sing and play.”
I can’t believe that I got to leave with my son by 11:00. That within an hour of being on the operating table he was lining up his toy cars as we signed his release paperwork.
I feel thankful and guilty all at the same time that we got to wake up at home this morning while many of those Mothers woke up in hospital chairs. They’re drinking bad coffee with sore backs right now as they wait to see the doctors for morning rounds.
Oh God, be with the mommas at the Children’s hospital. Heal their babies bind up their wounds, bring them the illogical hope and healing that only you can bring.