Sigh. Sitting in the waiting room. Baby in surgery. 10 very long minutes, but I’m sure there will be many longer such waits in the course of my life. Easy. Simple.
Aria had six straight months of ear infections and despite my neighbor telling me I should accept it and, as a result, just keep doing antibiotics every month and a half, I insisted on going to an ENT. She had a pool of water trapped in both ears. A cesspool for infection. Here we are.
Six AM check-in.
Six thirty evaluation by nurse. Hold baby close. Make her feel like it is just play. Answer questions.
No toys… At least not official ones.
Totally cool. We’ve got this.
Hook her up to lots of wires. Chest. Toe. Blood pressure cuff on her thigh.
Still in my arms. Still okay.
Set her down. Face mask on.
Tears. Hold me! Stop this! Mama!
Holding her down.
Chest heaving, but eyes closed, like she’s crying silently in her sleep.
Kiss on cheek.
Leave unconscious baby surrounded by her nurses.
Can’t see her. Doors closing.
Doctor briefs me. All went smoothly. Ears full of puss and infection. Expect weeks of oozing.
Called back in.
Baby sleeping. Ready to hold her. Reach out. In my arms. Warm. Barely conscious. Drifting. Fussing. Red and white cotton in her ears.
I slip out a breast and lean her to it. Glad I haven’t quit nursing. Best comfort of nature’s making.
Cords and wires monitoring.
Hold her close and kiss her forward.
She is fine.
I let out a long, silly breath of relief.
As I say to Aria after meals and play and diaper changes…
All done! All done! All done!