The Next Step

Tricky’s second (and hopefully final) surgery for his Craniosynostosis is tomorrow.

For the first round of surgery we were travelling in to the unknown. I had no point of reference. I hadn’t had to deal with a baby needing surgery before. I hadn’t had to deal with a sick baby before. Hell, I hadn’t even had to deal with a baby before! I had no way of knowing just what we were in for.

Everything was new and scary.

It was like the first day at a new job when you don’t know where to go, don’t know anyone’s name, oh, and your baby is about to have his skull cracked open.

But this time? This time it’s still scary, still nerve-wracking… but different.

Last time it was major surgery. Days of morphine, special care nursing, neurological obs and machines that go PING. This time it is merely day surgery… a few hours later and Bob’s your uncle, kid is fixed, off you go, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Last time I was worried about how he’d feed afterwards, if his eyes would swell shut, if he would still be my little Tricky. And whilst that is on my mind now, my worries this time revolve mainly around the anesthesia.

At 14 weeks old, Tricky fell asleep in my arms before surgery and a lovely nurse with a divine Irish accent, gently lifted him from me and took him to theatre. I only saw the waiting room.

These days, as an inquisitive eight month old, it’s a rarity for him to fall asleep in my arms; and whilst he will quite happily be handed around to most people for cuddles, he does have his shy, only want Mama moments… which means it’s highly likely I’ll have to go in with him.

To the shiny, white, sterile cocoon.

I will have to watch him be anaesthetized.

Go pale and limp.

As if dead...

And I am shit scared.

Map Guy has said he will do it. But there is something stopping me from accepting his offer.

There is a strange mix of emotions going through my head. My thoughts are swinging madly between fear and the deep yearning to protect a child. My child.

I should be able to do this. I shouldn't give it a second thought.

He's my baby and he needs his mother.

He's my baby and I need him.

I read Fi’s post over at Calm Blue Ocean, about her daughter who had to spend some time in hospital and why she chose to be the one to stay, and it resonated with me.

Some would call it martyrdom whilst others will call it protective instinct. Fi suggests it might be her control issues. Whatever it is, that drive, that force... it's powerful. 

This is not just my job, it's my life; my blood; my baby.

If he can go through two skull surgeries before he's nine months old, then the least I can do is be there to hold him.

To see all posts relating to Tricky's Craniosynostosis journey click here.

To find out more about Craniosynostosis click here.

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