I can tell just how long it’s been since I’ve blogged by the password I’m using to log onto WordPress. Sad. But, the best way to be a writer is to start writing, so here it goes.
Ear tubes! No, not ear tubs, as my iPhone likes to autocorrect my clumsy fingers, but tympanostomy or myringotomy tubes, tiny little cylinders that were placed into my infant son’s adorable little ears (seriously, one of my favorite parts of him are his perfect, shapely, elvish ears) to drain out fluids that accumulated from his cleft palate and became infected from a recent cold.
In the grand scheme of things, not a big deal, and certainly nothing like his cleft lip repair that happened some four months ago.
The best part of this whole experience was that we fasted through the night together and I realized this still-breastfeeding 10-month-old baby can get back to sleep without the boob, be up at 5:30 am for a car ride (one of his most hated things, by the way) in the rainy cold and then wait in a hospital for two hours before going into surgery.
The second best part is that we went to Miller Children’s Hospital of Long Beach instead of CHOC and at Miller Children’s, they let one parent accompany the kid into the operating room. That was amazing. Out of the three hospital Raynor’s had surgery at – CHOC, St. Joseph’s and now Miller’s, this was the only one that let us anywhere near the OR, much less in it.
I got to wear surgical scrubs, which was fun (hey, I get my fun where I can these days) and I held my son while they put him under. It was gas only so I just held him in my lap, facing out while they put the mask near his face. He kicked at the gas line, swiped at the mask (it smells funny) and wiggled. The anesthesiologist, who sees this all the time, was patient and just kept the gas mask close to his face. After what seemed like several minutes, he started falling asleep just breathing in the gas escaping from the open mask.
“Go ahead, and put him on the table.”
I tried, and to my surprise he was floppy – like I have never felt him this heavy or limp before. They helped me hold his head and the rest of his body up and onto the table. “He’s not even fully under,” they told me and I was astonished at how deeply asleep he must be then when they put the mask on.
It actually, for a split second, made me want to be an anesthesiologist. That was seriously one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
Raynor was fussy the remaining of the day as expected. Infant Tylenol calculations are difficult now, with the drops no longer being sold and no instructions on the box for children under two, but we were told to try to avoid ibuprofen because it’s a blood thinner.
Unfortunately, Raynor hates Tylenol, so each dosing became a huge theatrical performance, with me sticking the syringe in my mouth, then in Dad’s mouth, and finally in Raynor’s mouth, only to squeeze maybe a couple squirts in before letting him have apple juice, all the while making loud Mmmmm-ing sounds. The whole day crawled by; I have been sleep deprived from taking care of Raynor and also sick myself but Mommy Power kept me going. Seriously. I couldn’t even fall asleep for a nap for some reason.
Ah, the joys of parenthood. Yet I wouldn’t trade any of it for all the Toblerone in the world.