Today was surgery day. The first time one of our children would be under anesthesia. The first time we could not go with her into a space when she would probably be feeling incredibly scared. The first time I wouldn’t be the one right next to her when she fell asleep or when she woke up in pain.
Our middle daughter is 6. Over the last year, we have noticed her increasing struggle to be well-rested, even after a full night’s sleep, as well as some behavior concerns. After a sleep study in the fall, she was diagnosed with very mild sleep apnea. We treated with meds, per instruction. The first medication did not go well. After that, we tried nasal spray for months. Her pauses during sleep continued, as did her constant exhaustion, so she was referred to an ENT. At that point, we were told she also needed tubes put in, which brings us to today.
Today was surgery day.
The past week she became increasingly nervous. Luckily for us, a classmate recently had tubes put in and has been giving her a bit of information each day. Thankfully, she came home calmer after each piece of news offered up to her from someone her size. This morning, due to her fasting prior to surgery, we woke her up just before leaving the house. She wore her favorite Valentine’s pajamas and lugged her narwhal backpack filled with two stuffed animals and a blanket with her.
We arrived at Dayton Children’s an hour before the scheduled surgery, where we were quickly checked in. Before long, she was dressed in her tiny scrubs, cuddled in bed watching Paw Patrol as we answered questions and signed forms. When it was time to take her back for the procedure, we couldn’t go. The nurses and doctors chatted happily with her as they distracted her on the way over. We were taken to a consult room to wait. We prayed and sat quietly distracting ourselves.
Because they were not removing her tonsils today and only putting tubes in, it was a quick procedure. The doctor came in to talk with us immediately after, while she was still with the nurses. The procedure went well; as expected, her adenoids were large. Once she was moved back into her room, we were taken to her. The poor girl was crying and begging to go home, while a sweet nurse was feeding her a slushy. Honestly, I both hated to see her tears and adored it. It was so much better to me than not being by her side while knowing she was sedated. We couldn’t take away her pain, but we could at least be next to her caring for her through it. Within an hour, we were headed home.
During cuddles tonight, my sweet girl walked me through what this was like for her. “Mama, I was scared. SO scared when you did not go with me. I wanted you.”
“I was scared, too.”
“You were scared? What were YOU scared about?!”
You being in pain. You being alone. The possibility of you struggling with anesthesia.
“I was scared because I wanted to be with you, too, and they wouldn’t let me.”
“Oh. Yes.”
“But, baby girl, I am proud of you. Because you were so very brave. You are brave.”
“Thank you, mom.”
And just like that, I realized that my little 6-year-old might be braver than I ever will. She can do big things on her own. And hopefully will be a more rested and healthy version of herself soon.
Thank you to the doctors and nurses for taking such good care of our girl.
