Making a plan #
By the time our son was three months old, we finally had a diagnosis we trusted. After months of uncertainty and second opinions, we felt ready to move forward. His first surgery was scheduled for when he was seven months old.
We live on the West Coast, and the surgery would take place in Texas. It would be our first trip across the country as a family. At the time, everything felt unfamiliar. We weren’t just preparing for surgery. We were preparing to travel with a baby, stay away from home for several weeks, and care for him afterward.
Preparing for every possibility #
Looking back, I probably spent hundreds of hours preparing for that trip.
Every evening after our son fell asleep, I searched for information, read other parents’ experiences, and made lists of everything we might need. Preparing gave me something I could do when everything else felt outside of my control.
We packed an entire suitcase of toys. There were balloons, silicone cars, stacking toys, books, and his favorite activity cube. We even packed a large Elizabethan collar that was originally made for a dog because it fit around our son’s waist (we later found Snoofybee works better). We hoped it might keep him from reaching the surgical site during recovery.
Since this would also be his first flight, we packed new toys for the airplane, his favorite pacifier, and a small travel bed so he could sleep more comfortably during the journey.
Choosing where to stay #
We rented an Airbnb only a couple of minutes from the surgical center.
Having a kitchen meant we could prepare baby food ourselves, and staying nearby would reduce the amount of time our son needed to spend in the car after surgery. At the time, every small decision felt important. We simply wanted to make the recovery as easy as possible for him.
Looking back, I think many of those preparations also helped me manage my own anxiety. They gave me the feeling that I was doing everything I could for my child.
The night before surgery #
The evening before surgery, the anesthesiologist called to review the fasting instructions. We were told exactly when our son needed to stop eating and when he could no longer breastfeed.
I barely slept that night. Around two o’clock in the morning, I woke up to pump milk. Half an hour later, while he was still asleep, I gently fed him one last time before the fasting period began. I knew he wouldn’t understand why he couldn’t eat later that morning, so I wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.
The morning we had been waiting for #
His surgery was scheduled as the first case of the day, so we arrived at the surgical center early that morning.
Fortunately, our son slept through almost everything. We quietly carried him from his crib to the car without changing him out of his pajamas. He remained asleep during the drive and while we checked in at the surgical center. For a little while, it almost felt like a normal morning.
Eventually, the anesthesiologist came to take him. He was still asleep when they gently lifted him from our arms. Watching him disappear through the operating room doors was one of the longest moments of my life.
We had spent months preparing for this day. Now all we could do was wait.
Take a deep breath. One day at a time.
