letting go

one of the hardest lessons as a mama…. letting go of my need to control all outcomes. there are some things that are out of our hands. i am glad i got to that place (this particular time! not saying i have this lesson in the bag, just in case it sounded that way!) before monday, when i had to take quinn in for dental surgery. watching our children undergo general anesthesia would vie for a spot in the top ten hardest things a mama has to do. wow. that sucked.

in some ways it has made me grateful for some earlier very trying times in my life. like the one time i was under general anesthesia (a low point for me, but i’m glad i know that you really do feel/know/remember nothing while you are under it, so i know that is what quinn experienced on monday). like right after his birth, being confronted with seriously maybe losing him. death is always right outside the door whenever anyone gives birth, but he had his hand on the doorknob and was thinking about turning it, when my kiddo came into the world and aspirated a lungful of meconium on his way. this was, by comparison, “easier” in the sense that hardly anyone dies while having dental work done under general anesthesia; still, it is that feeling of being near that threshold.

watching him struggle against the gas was hard.  i thought, he is a guy who knows he wants to be in control of himself. he is like harry potter fighting off dementors, or fighting off an imperius curse. he is so brave and so strong. i thought, this is what it would be like to watch him die. things came out of my mouth as if the room was not crowded full of medical people. as if i was not wearing a ridiculous hairnet and gown. mama’s here. i love you as big as the sky and as big as the ocean. it is okay to go to sleep. on “sleep” he became still.

i know from earlier, that i can’t not write this out. these are hard things to write. probably hard ones to read. my birth experience had a hard time coming out on paper. this time, it’s just flowing out. i’m tired of holding stuff in and not dealing. so this is me, dealing.

sitting in the waiting room writing him a letter. waiting. and waiting. getting called in, all is well. sigh.

walking in, the instant his eyes popped open. carrying him out to the car, his very clear command of himself returning in between drug-induced bouts of slumber. “mama. i need you to give me that purple water bottle.” puking. more puking. more sleeping.

a long drive. my moon deciding to respond to the sudden tapering off of cortisol coursing through my  bloodstream, and finally show up, three days late. lower back pain while driving. more puking at home. juice, more puking. refusing motrin. puking at the smell of the grape flavored motrin. ok we won’t take any motrin just yet.

a 2 hour snuggle, awake, in bed. punctuated by “let’s go fishing” and other stories he needed to tell me. a gallon of breastmilk later…. no more puking.

a box of annie’s mac and cheese later… still no puking. sleep. brief whimpering at 6 pm, the only hint of pain i saw. i snuck some motrin into him. instantly back to sleep.

2:30 am… pain free, wide awake, ready to go fishing. mama: not so ready. compromise- he pretend fished, i made us some snacks. back to bed at 4.

morning- he’s beautiful, vibrant, more smiley than ever. cuts off his own id band with his blue scissors (that’s my boy!)

i arrive at work a mere 4 hours late. he’s happy hanging with dad, doing his usual. after work, he and i head to the docks, he’s thinking, it’s about time, mama!

look at those new teeth! (3 crowns in front).

a very long-awaited exhale…..