Having to watch my innocent, precious daughter take a drug that made her loopy and spacey before going into the operating room and watching her inhale gas while the nurses, anesthesiologist and I stood over her singing Itsy Bitsy Spider…it all made me a little emotional. Seeing her try to be a good helper throughout — helping the nurse hold the little gas mask over her nose, looking up at all of us with a goofy smile and darting pupils, trying to keep her eyes open before finally arching her neck and gasping so deeply then finally passing out. That’s when the nurse had to escort me back to the waiting room, reassuring me my daughter was in good hands.
And this procedure was only a very minor one! I cannot imagine what it must be like for parents of children battling serious illness and disease.
After awhile I was called back into the recovery room so I could be by her side when she woke up. This was also a startling visual — seeing June passed out, mouth open, eyelids twitching, dead to the world with her little hand wrapped in gauze to hold in place the IV needle in her arm. I just wanted to bundle her up and get her out of there. It took her awhile to wake up, and when she did, she was cranky. Her body was like a rag doll. She fussed and moaned so we sat in the easy chair and cuddled for awhile and I busted out my best rendition of Wheels On the Bus. These are the moments when I really feel like a mom and I am thankful for the experience. I say this as someone who never really wanted kids; now that I have her, I can’t imagine life without her.
And I never want to see her out of her right mind again. I like my June just the way she is. No mood altering or mind bending drugs ever again, please. Oh, the cruelty of Karma.
She cried all the way home, exhausted and feeling crummy after the long day. She’s in bed now, asleep. I am wiped out too. The glass of wine helps.