The “relaxing” medicine they gave her right before hand was the most entertaining part of our day. Although, watching my little [...]]]>
Pre-surgery, Zoe was upbeat and willing. Ready and raring to go.
“Are you nervous, sweetie?”
“Pffffft! No.” (As if to say, “Mommy! I AM six years old, I KNOW what I’m doing!”)
What a brave little girl!

The “relaxing” medicine they gave her right before hand was the most entertaining part of our day. Although, watching my little girl act like a raging drunk wasn’t the prettiest thing to witness.

Here is the elephant on her hospital room wall, that she INSISTED was currently charging at her:

Waiting for the O.R. to call her down was just slightly beyond excruciating.
I had my trusty drug of choice coping mechanism standing by…..

Some of the longest 45 minutes of my life went by…..
This is the part of parenthood I cannot stand….the loss of control, the feeling of worry and helplessness. Every parent goes through it. Every parent loathes it.

But she did great. No problems, no bumps or hiccups. Minimal blood loss and she returned from surgery fast asleep.

Aaaaaah…… A huge sigh of relief. My baby girl is back with me and she is okay.
And then, she woke up……….

Part two in the “Intolerable moments in Parenthood” series. Watching your child feel pain and fear and sadness. All at once.

Again, you’re powerless and you just want to curl right up alongside them and take every ounce of their pain from them, absorb it into your own body, if you must. Anything, to make it go away.

Since her throat was too sore for her to speak, she pointed to the little hospital pain chart they kept in the room…….

Poor baby. There have only been one or two times in all of her life that she has been in that amount of pain. And really…..a six isn’t too shabby!

This, on the other hand, was mommy’s pain level……

After eating a spoonful of pudding, post surgery, she exclaimed, “Oh!! I can’t eat this.”
“Why not?”
“Well, I’ve only ever had pudding when I had tonsils in my mouth!”

I promised her repeatedly, “We won’t ever take your tonsils out again!”
Words that, at the time, served as more of a comfort since she was far too loopy to understand their simplicity.

She is still feeling pretty uncomfortable but we’re trying our best to keep her hydrated and just seeking solace in the fact that by the time she’s old enough to hold a grudge, she won’t even remember this lousy experience.
That, and this fall she won’t be missing another month’s worth of school due to recurrent strep throat and tonsillitis.

The tonsils are gone for good but I know that eventually her smile will return.