I'm a Little Teapot

Immediately after finishing the operation, Dr. Nath came out to talk to us. He explained that things went well and that she would be waking up soon. He was very detailed and answered our questions. He told us that someone would bring us to recovery soon, and that he would see us the following day.

More waiting. We were taken back to the recovery room when she began moving around. It was really, really hard on mom. I'm sure it was difficult on dad, too, but I didn't have time to notice, being that I was a mess. As she began to come out of her haze, my poor baby was crying for her mama. I didn't know how to pick her up, because she was attached to so many things, and wearing this crazy teapot get-up on her upper half. It was frustrating, but her nurse was great. She got that baby into my arms as quickly as possible. I cried with her for awhile (the nurse politely pretended not to notice), and then she went back to sleep.

While you are in the recovery room, there are other children and parents there, too, for lots of different reasons. All the kids are in various post-op stages, and it probably one of the saddest places I have ever had to visit. It made me grateful that there is an end to our journey, that we won't spend her whole childhood waiting in recovery rooms. It made me grateful, also, that this place existed. That we were allowed to have care there. That other children will have better lives because of their visits there, too.

She woke up the second time and, to my great relief, wanted to eat Cheetos. If my kid will eat, she is just fine. She LOVES to eat. I knew she was going to get through this. That she wouldn't hate me forever. As long as I was tall enough to reach the snack cabinet, we could remain friends.

When you become a parent, you always love your kid. But, sometimes these things have a way of making you realize the fierceness of it. The need to protect them. The tenderness you feel in your heart; the way it pulls when you look at your baby, all wrapped up in brown Velcro, eating Cheetos. The pain you feel inside your soul for them, the longing to take their place. I realized then that if anything ever happened to this child of mine, I would just lay down and die. I was proud of us for making this decision to better her life, but at that moment, I wanted it all to just go away.

After awhile we were transported by a chatty man to the Children's wing of Memorial Hermann, and it was time for more waiting. Our daughter was sleeping and would for most of the day and night. The great nurses managed her pain, and my husband and I sat around and looked nervous for awhile.

She would wake from time to time, and we would give her juice or hold her or play with her, but mostly she slept. Mostly we worried. The staff was right on top of everything, and were professional and friendly. I loved her first nurse. It was a really good environment for our family to settle down and move on to the next step.

She always slept this way. Didn't seem to bother her. Weirdo.