I wore my brave face up until my son slowly faded off. He looked small and vulnerable lying on the operating table with an oxygen mask on his face. Once he no longer needed a strong Mom, I broke down. I walked out of the operating room in tears.
I wandered around the hospital and with each passing moment I could feel my heartrate increase. The nurses handed me a nice little pager, the ones that they use in restaurants when you wait for a table. They told me that they would page me when my son arrived back at his room. No matter where I went in the hospital, that pager was in my hand, or at the very least in my sight. At one point, shortly after I sat down and pulled out my book as a distraction, I found myself staring at it, as if willing it to beep. I must of been glaring at it for about 3 minutes before I even realized that my attempt at distraction was not working. I realized that I was only moment away from pacing.
Finally an hour and a half after they wheeled my son behind the ominous Do Not Enter Doors, Isuccumbed to my neurosis, and began texting Boyfriend my worries and how my buzzer hasn’t beeped yet. Considering the sporadic service within the hospital walls, I didn’t quite update him on…well, anything. So I can only imagine how confusing it might have been to get a “My buzzer hasn’t beeped!!!!!” text.
As if in cue, as soon as I pressed send on my phone, the pager began vibrating, lighting up and making a really annoying beeping sound. I hightailed it to his room. All I could think of was my son needed his Mom. If I could have been by his side when he woke up, I would have. I didn’t want him to spend a minute longer away from me than absolutely necessary.
Kid is doing well. Surgical site is tender, sore and bruised, but he is stoked to have an excuse to sit on the couch, watching movies, eating ice cream, and essentially being babied. Something that hasn’t happened since he WAS a baby 🙂