The journey was full of discussions of what was to come. We had talked with Chandler a lot about where we were going and why. This was Chandler’s first trip that he could recall that required a long ride in the car. He was so excited to go to Kansas City and yet he didn’t know what Kansas City was. He would ask when we would be in Kansas City and then ask “why are we going to Kansas City?” We would repeat his question back to him and he would tell us that we were going for “Cangen to have surgery.”
Simple.
Right?
With every mile closer I tried to think of other things but my mind would become consumed with what this trip was to entail. I would try to picture everything, picture how I would feel at each point on surgery day and then I would get emotional. “It will be okay”, Chase would remind me. I would just shake my head in agreement and try to change my thoughts.
When we arrived at Children’s Mercy I felt the weight of the entire situation bearing down. Then in the elevator ride up to preadmission’s office we met a father and his son. My perspective immediately was shifted. I still wanted to cry. But I wanted to cry for him, his lifelong battle and the heart of his father to be a constant and continuous caregiver. Chandler was hard distract but in that moment I wanted to glue my feet to the floor as one step closer meant one step closer to the moment that I would trust someone else to take care of my baby while I could not even be present. As I was holding my precious Cannon I wanted to leave to turn around and go back home and enjoy all the things summer was suppose to be.
Maybe there was still time. Still time to cancel. Still time to walk out. Still time to leave. Still time to reschedule for when I was ready.
I wasn’t ready.
There was no way I could allow my baby’s head to be cut open and a large part of his skull removed for it then to regrow itself. No way!
I felt as though it was too cramped in the office. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I thought I might get sick and then we heard the sound of Cannon’s name being called. I looked but didn’t move. The nurse said it again. I got up flustered not knowing what to take with us back there. All of it I guess.
We updated the nurse on all of his health history. Quite a bit for such a little guy. But we were here now and he was healthy, had been healthy, he was…ready.
I was not.
Then the neurosurgeon’s nurse came in to visit and to make sure that we were ready. To make sure we were prepared. To make sure we were informed. At one point she asked if we had any more questions because if it were her baby she would have a million, but finally for the first time I didn’t have any more questions. I had called her so much for so many questions prior this day. I had researched online. I had questioned our decision. I had questioned my ability to survive this. I had questioned the doctors. I had questioned God. I had had a million questions but suddenly I only had one more.
He would be okay, right?
Because this was my baby and I needed him to be okay.
I needed him.
There was more talk but none of which I could focus on. The preadmission nurse checked his stats and then came the scary visit. The anesthesiologist. I sat there numb. I listened like this was not what my Cannon would have to endure. He would not have those complications. He would not have those risks. Then the anesthesiologist mentioned that the PICU beds were tight. There were not many extra rooms available so there was a chance that Cannon’s surgery would be postponed if there was not a bed available for recovery. WHAT? No! We had not come this close for that to hold us back. Our family was coming. Everyone was praying. Everyone was prepared.
When would we know?
We would need to wait for the call later that afternoon for an official surgery time, an eating schedule of when to stop his feeds and to verify that there would be a PICU bed available for our Cannon.
Our appointment had been early. Too early, because the early time gave us the entire rest of the day to just focus on what the next day was to bring. We checked in to where we would be staying and all I wanted to do was hold my baby and savor every moment. His smell, his warmth, his smiles, his eyes, his love that he had shared so deeply and entrusted us to care for.
We took pictures, lots of pictures. We recorded the boys being brothers, laughing and playing just so we could remember. When the wait was too long tomorrow we could look at the pictures and watch the boys laughing and know that our Cannon was safe.
Safe in God’s hands.
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| Big brother Chandler kissing his sweet Cangen! |
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| Night before surgery, trying not to smile for mommy! |
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