Last week was the day we’d dreaded. The day of Jack’s surgery was on Thursday.
Anxiety made this a whole lot worse in the run up to it than it needed to be. Screw you Anxiety. Anxiety voice was saying terrible things like he might not live, there might be a complication, he might not get off breathing support in recovery and need oxygen for several more months. Horrible siding anxiety voice in my head.
I’d had a horrid panic attack a few days before because of all those thoughts, my brain saying oh you might only be a Mummy for a few more days. It’s fecking nasty to live with that in your head. I watch too much Grey’s Anatomy. I know too much about what can go wrong.
And yet on the day, I was calm. I was ok as we got ready and headed in – SO EARLY – and was calm when Jack was Hangry (adjective – bad tempered or irritable due to hunger) as he’d been fasting. He’d had water that morning instead of milk and he was cross.
When it was time (we were first as Jack was the youngest on their list that day) only one of us could carry him through and cuddle him to sleep. I wanted it to be me. Hubby understand I needed it to be me. Jack would need his special lullaby. It’s the one I sung during pregnancy and during skin-to-skin time in the NICU. I needed to be with him until the last moment.
I held him as they put the mask over his face which upset him and they detracted him with bubbles and I held him and sang and sang until he was asleep. I whispered in his ear a message just for us. And then I was asked to leave. The lady who escorted me back to the ward did her best to distract me with questions about the lullaby and my singing voice (I sing a bit, or used to).
Hubby and I went to get breakfast and I ate all my feelings (which turned out to be a bad idea when I then weighed myself this week – who knew?) I had a croissant with PROPER butter and a hot chocolate made with FULL FAT milk and didn’t care. Then I said we had to go back to the ward because they need to be able to find us if they need us.
Jack was gone about an hour and 10 minutes. I saw Hubby look up towards the ward entrance and grinned. I had expected someone to come and fetch us but they just carried him straight back to us! The nurse placed him in my arms where he belonged and I was whole again. He was upset and groggy but cuddled up to me and I cried happy relieved tears. He was alive and without any oxygen tubes! We cuddled and he napped for a couple of hours. The hospital chairs were not that comfy but I didn’t give two hoots.
We stayed until about 3pm after the formalities of him needing to prove he could eat/drink without vomiting and also they needed to check that he had at least one wet nappy before leaving. The surgeon confirmed that they got everything sorted that needed to be and explained the aftercare for the dressing and wound.
And then we left! It all seems so simple now. I didn’t freak out when it was important. We all had naps when we got home. Jack slept a lot that day. In Daddy’s arms. In my arms. Lucky us!