Some days Owen really surprises me. Today took the cake. This little guy can be so independent and fiercely so. I have heard mamas say that the way their babies entered the world was indicative of the kiddos’ personality and that is so true about baby Owen! Owen was born fast, without hesitation, daringly missed arriving in the parking lot. He is our courageous and fearless one. He is always ready to try something new and death-defying that keeps his momma’s heart racing. But today he was calm, quiet, and cozy. He “knew” that something was going on and about to happen. When we arrived at the hospital, I worried about containing my free spirit during the pre-op stuff that would inevitably take forever. Owen sat with David and me, played with a single toy, and laughed gleefully as we blew him bubbles. He snuggled hard and always wanted to be touching. He waved to every nurse and bashfully hid his face in my shoulder. It was sweet and simple and it made the whole experience so hard at the same time. He had no idea what was going to happen today! While getting tubes put in is a “routine” procedure, it still felt so scary as his momma. I just wanted to stay with him through the whole thing. When it was time, he gave his daddy a kiss and while David walked into the waiting room, I carried Owen to the OR.
The room was big and bright. It was our first time ever in an OR. Everyone in there was so friendly and warm. We sat in a chair together and they pulled out a farm animal book. It warmed my heart because Owen loves animals so much. He watched and listened to the story and they placed the mask over his face and despite the warning from the doctors that he will fuss, wiggle away, and potentially scream, he just sat there listening to his book. He fell asleep and they took him from my arms and I kissed his little cheek while he laid on a huge bed. It was the longest walk out of that OR. Some many days I have complained that my arms were tired from motherhood. My arms were heavy and sore from it all, but that walk my arms felt empty, and that emptiness was devastating.
Ten minutes is not a long time at all. I sit captivated for twelve 10 minute segments of the Bachelor weekly, but those 10 minutes of waiting were long and quiet and while we sat there I felt my breath catch. The doctor came out soon and I stood up and said to David, “it’s time to go.” But the doctor held up his hand and said, “just a minute.” For a millisecond, my heart sank and I panicked! What, what, what!!! He methodically explained that he had to go back to his office and would not take us to recovery and that Owen was fine, we could see him shortly, and that the poor baby had a “tremendous amount of fluid in his ears” and much needed the procedure. We shook hands and I shook off those little fears. Finally a few minutes later, we were brought into recovery by the anesthesiologist. He explained that while many kids wake up upset, crying, and clawing at their cribs to get out, Owen (our wild man) was just sitting up looking at puppy pictures with the nurse. Seeing him there with groggy eyes was the best moment. He reached out to me, I grabbed him, and my arms knew that familiar weight again, my nose took in his smell, my cheek felt his bristly hair, and I snuggled my baby long and hard. He drank some of his juice and fell asleep until we got home.
He is a little wobbly right now at home and napping hard this afternoon, but we are home and it went much better than expected. And we saw some yellow butterflies in our yard and if you know me, you know I take that as a sign of my nanny.