So here we are. Surgery number three. I kinda hoped by this point we'd be pros at this. Our skins would be thicker, we'd be braver. More prepared for the stress. But I guess, when it comes to surgery on your child, it is NEVER easy. For some reason this third surgery is bothering me more. I guess I'm just drained at this point. I've tried to hold it together each time (I don't know that I've been great at it, but I've tried!), and I guess I'm officially tired of trying. Im just stressed, dangit.
Last night, of course, our power went out around 1am from a crazy storm outside. So Charlie was up and I brought her to bed with me. That was actually kind of a plus. But the power never came back on and we found ourselves rushing to get all of our stuff packed and together in the dark, by candlelight. Awesome. Parking was a nightmare when we got here. It took Joe an hour and a half to find a spot. We had to wait 3 hours for Charlie to finally go back for surgery. We're already fried and it's just the beginning.
But she's back in surgery now. It's the beginning of the last (fingers crossed) major surgery for her. And all of the craziness leading up to it will be a funny story years from now. It's always those stories with bad thing after bad thing happening, that make the best stories to tell over Thanksgiving dinner: "...and just when it couldnt get any more stressful, the power goes out..."
Charlie bird is one brave toaster:
It's stressful and it's sad and we're on edge and are completely beside ourselves knowing we just sent our little girl off to have this painful procedure done...but...and there is a really great "but" here...this is the surgery that should get her up and walking. Running, even.
As parents, we just do what it takes. It's not about us anymore. If its hard, if its tiring, if it feels like its just too much - oh well. Suck it up. Do what it takes.
We'll always do what it takes for our little babies.
Anything for a baby like this: