Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Day a Mama Never Wants to See
Two weeks and counting down until Parker's surgery. Two weeks and counting down until I have to put my baby boy on a stretcher and say good-bye for a few hours. Two weeks until I watch my son being wheeled down a hallway, knowing I am about to become completely helpless. 14 days until all of my hope, faith, and control go into the hands of Parker's doctors and the Big Man above. Two weeks until the day that any mama never wants to experience. February 25th can't come soon enough, yet I wish it was so far away. It's a day I will never be ready for, yet a day that I'm so ready to finish with.
Parker's surgery and all of the worries, emotions, and questions that surround it have consumed my mind for over a month. It's all I think about, worry about, cry about, and lose sleep over. I've kept a lot of these feelings to myself because I try to ignore them thinking that they will eventually go away and I'll arrive at a sense of peace. So far, I've been unsuccessful. Every time I look at my baby boy, I imagine him being wheeled away from my arms into the arms of the doctors...to a place where his mom can't comfort him, hold him, rock him, kiss him, and tell him it's going to be OK. The image of my tiny baby going into a large room with wires, machines, surgery tools, and doctors will never settle.
Please don't tell me everything is going to be alright...because it's my son and it's not alright. Please don't tell me that he won't remember this...because his mama always will. Please don't tell me it'll be over soon...because it feels like it's been going on forever. Please don't tell me his surgery is short...because those two hours are going to feel like years.
Until it is your child, you won't completely understand...
Because until it was my child, I never fully understood...
Parker's surgery and all of the worries, emotions, and questions that surround it have consumed my mind for over a month. It's all I think about, worry about, cry about, and lose sleep over. I've kept a lot of these feelings to myself because I try to ignore them thinking that they will eventually go away and I'll arrive at a sense of peace. So far, I've been unsuccessful. Every time I look at my baby boy, I imagine him being wheeled away from my arms into the arms of the doctors...to a place where his mom can't comfort him, hold him, rock him, kiss him, and tell him it's going to be OK. The image of my tiny baby going into a large room with wires, machines, surgery tools, and doctors will never settle.
Please don't tell me everything is going to be alright...because it's my son and it's not alright. Please don't tell me that he won't remember this...because his mama always will. Please don't tell me it'll be over soon...because it feels like it's been going on forever. Please don't tell me his surgery is short...because those two hours are going to feel like years.
Until it is your child, you won't completely understand...
Because until it was my child, I never fully understood...
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