I awoke Friday morning in my little home without heat, note to self call the heater guy, with the dreaded apprehension of my daughters surgery.
So thankful to be here for her, but so nervous. It is hard to be Mom and without the ability to make it better. Do we ever loose that need? Is it not our job to make things right? I know she is an adult with children of her own, a grown woman who has made her way in life, but inside she is still my little girl, last born, my baby.
We walk the long walk to the door and kiss goodbye, hide your tears mom dont let her see you fall apart. Pray. We sit in the lobby helplessly waiting for the time to pass until we can see her. I wonder how it is going, and think would it not be great to get a blow by blow as it happens! Maybe earphones that are hooked to a system in the operating room and the surgical team could give us updates…. Well maybe that might not be so great, I would settle for just updates, like “doing good” “all is well” “she is a rock star”……
Do our children ever become a point of no worry? I don’t find this moment any different from my worries of her younger years. At least it wasn’t my decision to make this time as to have or have not the surgery.
It has been an hour and one half, for a one hour surgery….more worry and no news. The Doctor looked so young, how many of these could he have possibly done? I have no idea about this Hospital, why did I not research all this?
Her husband is told by the staff that the doctor wants him on the phone, my heart is in my stomach I feel sick. Is all okay, are they wanting permission to do something horrible, WHAT????? Here is where my control issues are running amuck, I am the Mom, give me the phone, you wont know what to say, please Lord make him listen and be serious, I say nothing and wait to hear the news. Which is good, all went well they are finishing up. I knew it. Control issues are not easy to live with.
The Doctor comes out, all went well, lots of news about how the surgery went and we find out it was good she did this, and did not wait… she will have a longer than expected recovery but all in all she is good and my baby will be fine.
We wait for our visit while things run through my head, knowing that all my worrying made it go well. See worrying does do good. You can never change my mind on that. My Grandmother, the worlds best worrier, told me that she and her sister would share their worries and give each other days off, I always thought that so wise.
I am Mom, I worry and fret. I will never master cooking, you will never wish to have my fashion abilities, you wont find my name in lights, or find me jetting around the world. But you can always count on me being by your side in times of need and being the best worrier ever.
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