Little Eyes, Little Ears, Big Hearts

Exactly two Tuesdays ago, my heartstrings were stretched, my mind was blown and I tried with all my might to hold back those ever-present mama tears.

As many children are, our little Ro-Ro (his daycare nickname) was bogged down by multiple, continuous ear infections all winter. Noah had the annoying ear troubles too, but never with this consistency and frequency and thankfully grew out of it.

Our usually happy go lucky baby boy Rowan would be miserable with pain and pressure, sometimes fever. I likened the last five months to a Wipe Out challenge obstacle course. Just when we thought we had made the jump to that slippery, spinning wheel, the big log came and knocked us off again. The constant crying, not sleeping, completely out-of-sorts situation (oh, and your child doesn't feel so hot either) can be a lot to take.

We went through the paces, tried every antibiotic, steroids, anti-inflammatories and although the last two options prolonged Rowan's pain-free periods, he ended up back at the dr. with more ear infections. The Ped referred us to a doc at Children's Hospital. Dr. Masin was wonderful from the get-go and had us try a few last resort ideas before committing to surgery. Unfortunately they did not pan out so Rowan was scheduled for his tube procedure on July 21st.

I have two nieces and a nephew who have been through multiple sets of tubes so I knew the drill and was put a little at ease by recaps from my sister-in-law. But I was getting a bit more anxious as we got closer to surgery day - of course letting my mind wonder. I started to worry as all mama's do.

We arrived at Children's a little early just to make ourselves more at ease, perhaps? I know that this is a surgery that docs perform many times a day and it's considered a routine outpatient procedure. From the amount of kids we saw in the waiting area, I think I'm right. However, about 20 minutes into our multi-faceted check-in process, I realized that I was gnawing at my cuticles. Rowan was fine, Jason was fine, I was the one acting like a toddler who couldn't sit still. My knee was bouncing, I was pacing from toy to activity to toy under the guise of keeping Rowan occupied - but it was me who had the issues. When I started making sucky fish faces at the aquarium and realized that Jason and Rowan were on the other side of the room, happily entertaining themselves, I rethought that regular-caf iced coffee I had a few hours earlier.

Everyone on Rowan's team that day everyone was genuine and thorough and amazing, really. The environment was perfect - lots to stimulate and keep little (and big) people busy, distracted - whatever you needed, it was there. There is a person dedicated to acclimating your child to what can be a scary situation - she brought in doctor's hats and hair caps for Jason and I to try on and play peek-a-boo with Ro. He thought we were nuts, did not crack a smile and ripped them off of our heads each time, but we had fun.

Then it was time. Watching your child being carried away in a hospital gown while he cries and does the biggest pouty lip known to man just plain sucks. Knowing that your child has to go under general anesthesia for a five minute procedure is suckier... mostly because of all of those mysterious, freak stories you read about on line or see on Oprah. God forbid you Google or Web MD your procedure before the event... not good. Ugh. You try so hard to not let your brain go there, but it does anyhow. Kind of like a pinball game. A scary thought pings up in your head and then you shoot it back down again. It's exhausting.

They said that this would be quick. I mean barely time for your butt to hit the waiting room chair and the doctor is standing in front of you quick. You get a pager. They explain how fast the doctor will be back out to talk to you and ask that you please don't leave the waiting area. They practically make you pinky swear before handing over the pager. But when you take that pager, you hold your breath. You're still in shock that you just gave up full control of the situation (hard for mommies), your child was carried away by a stranger and know that the next five to ten minutes will be the longest of your life. Ha - us moms thought that longest minutes of our lives occurred while birthing our children - no longer so.

So, I shoved the pager in my husband's hand, threw the diaper bag and stroller in his direction and ran to the ladies' for a pee and hand washing contest that other restroom guests did not realize they were competing in... and practically ran back out to the waiting area to eat my Welch's Fruit Snacks. It was nearly 2:10 and we had not eaten lunch yet. My head was pounding, my stomach was growling, I was fidgeting and nervously checking my work email every three seconds for no good reason.

As I was finishing up (inhaling, really) my snack, the woman sitting next to me asked, 'how old is yours?' I snapped back into reality. She had an infant carrier barraged in pink. I asked her the same and what procedure her daughter was having. I concentrated on listening and pushed down the urge to insert commentary about Rowan's history, weight, height, current words and estimations on walking... I just shut up and listened. This baby girl was only two months and she was there to have cataracts removed. Up until then, she was legally blind. Gulp (fruit chew stuck in throat). She couldn't see until now - wow. 

My big guy when he was a bit littler.





That wallop really hit my heart hard. It was already beating through my chest and melty and gushy from seeing all of the other kids that day, worrying about Rowan and thinking about Noah back at his summer program. When one child is experiencing something, I always think about the other if they're not with us - do you do that?

Immediately, I posted a daydream Facebook update on God's page and thanked him for my blessings, asking for forgiveness for being a blathering idiot about a small ear tube procedure when so many other children were undergoing much more serious, significantly more stressful (on child and parent) surgeries. Facebook because I am too verbose for Twitter, and plus God isn't on that often.

My child was in for a simple set of tubes. We had passed many kids in the hallways of Children's Hospital that day, in for treatments or check-ups or procedures but I wasn't seeing clearly. I had a one track mind. My baby was going under anesthesia and I was a tiny bit freaked out. Just a 'lil bit. 

I cannot imagine what other moms and dads go through with children who have more in depth health challenges. What big, soft, cushy hearts they have. What amazingly broad shoulders they have, what thick, tough skin they have, what open minds they have. How trusting they have to be, how strong they have to act.

Just a little ear procedure for Rowan opened my eyes to a whole world that I had never been entrenched in  before. My cousin is special needs and I see what challenges my aunt and uncle (one phenomenal set of human beings) go through in managing her care. They are just extraordinary to me. Like the parents I met in the waiting room two weeks ago. It's humbling. It's inspiring. These parents just do what they have to do.
They are my heroes, my rock stars and I strive to be as half as patient, loving, kind and open as those mommies and daddies.