Theo is having his tonsils and adenoids removed today. We took him to a pediatric ENT at Akron Children’s Hospital two months ago and were surprised to learn that it’s not normal for a kids to go to bed, sleep hard for 12-13 hours, toss and turn all night, and still wake up tired the next day. It’s not normal for the chronic dark circles under the eyes. It’s not normal for a kid to snore every night. It’s not normal to be constantly congested and to have a host of issues related to that congestion.
This motherhood gig is hard.
I’m confident in our decision to move forward with the operation and I’m confident in Theo’s doctor and Akron Children’s (they are simply the best, in my opinion), and I’m super confident that God is in control and will be looking out for my little buddy.
It still makes me a little sad to think of him in pain, and it hurts my heart a little to know that he hasn’t been getting quality sleep or air for basically his whole life.
Theo’s doctor is confident that the surgery will help him rest soundly. He shouldn’t snore anymore, have chronic congestion, restless sleep, and should generally feel more rested and refreshed. He also encouraged us that this surgery tends to help kids be a little less hyper afterwards. I’m not sure of the connection, but there you have it.
Theo and I spent some time together just the two of us the day before the surgery. We shopped for popsicles and pudding and enjoyed eating lunch together on Panera’s patio. When we had finished eating, I asked him if he knew what was happing the next day. He shook his head no, his mouth full of a cookie.
“Tomorrow, we are going back to see Dr. Good.” (His real name, for Pete’s sake. How does Akron Children’s do it??? They are so awesome.)
“I’m getting my tonsils out tomorrow???” Theo said, with his eyes getting big.
I told him that yes, that was correct.
“Maybe we should do that when I’m 7,” he said.
“We are sticking to plan, Theo,” I told him. “Remember what Dr. Good said? That it was best to do this before you start school?”
“Do you trust me, Theo?” I asked.
Theo nodded again.
“Mommy and daddy will be there at the hospital with you the whole time. You can trust that we will be there. You can trust that we want to only make decisions that are good for you. You can trust that even when you don’t see us, that we will be there. And you can trust that even though you can see him, God is with you always. Always.”
After a long, thoughtful, Theo-type pause, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Alright. Let’s give it a shot.”
He went back to his cookie and I just sat and looked at him and wondered how he got to be so brave. So thoughtful. So wonderful.
It’s not easy to make decisions for your kids that require going through something hard to get to something good, but that’s parenting and life in a nutshell, I guess. Part of me wishes someone would just hand me a cookie and say, “I’ve got it. You can trust me,” but I’m that person now.
It’s a big job. And it feels big.
On the flip side, I’m also the person that gets to sit on the couch with my boy, post surgery, holding him close if he will let me or just occupying the same space if he doesn’t, watching DinoTrux and eating popsicles.
Because part of being the mom is doing it together. The hard stuff, the good stuff, and everything in between.