Inside the mind of a distraught mom

For nine months I had been so careful.  I took my vitamins, got lots of rest, went to all my doctor's appointments, and tried to eat all the right things.  Since Christopher's birth I did my very best to care for him, and now they were telling me that he needed surgery.  I just couldn't wrap my brain around that idea.  Were they actually talking about cutting open the child I had worked so hard to care for and protect?

Mom's are hard wired to protect their children.  If you think your child is about to get hurt, it is amazing how you can literally dive on top of your child to shield them from harm.  That wasn't going to work in this situation.  It made me feel completely helpless. 

I tried to tell myself that they weren't really trying to hurt him.  Their intentions were admirable.  They were trying to help him, save him.  Why didn't it feel that way though?  I felt like I had failed somehow.  Maybe I had done something wrong when I was pregnant or since he was born.  Maybe I had missed something, or maybe the obstetrician or pediatrician had missed something.  Did he really need this surgery anyway?  Maybe there was another way, a pill or some other less drastic procedure that didn't involve cutting my newborns pristine little body.  Maybe I should look on the bright side.  After the surgery, everything will be normal...right?  We can go back to our lives, and this will just be a horrible memory. 

The more I thought about it, I knew that the answers to these questions all led to the same place- surgery.  I needed to compose myself, be strong.  I should be positive and help others who are struggling around me, but somehow in my postpartum haze I just can't muster the energy.

They are ready to take Christopher now, but I can't let go.  I am trying to hold on as tightly as I can without hurting him.  I just can't let go.  I won't.  This is crazy.  My heart tells me that these doctors have to be wrong, but my mind is telling me otherwise.  I still can't let go, so my husband gently nudges me, and I hand him over. 

As we sit in the surgical waiting room waiting for news about the surgery, I look around and can't believe that I actually belong here.  This is a very foreign place to me.  It seems so wrong.  This isn't supposed to happen.  Why?  Why?  Why is this happening?  I am crying so hard I can't see.  My stomach hurts.  My heart hurts.

It seems to be taking too long.  Did something go wrong?  Why haven't they come to talk to us yet?  I think I might be going crazy.  How do people do this?  I've seen stories on television about things like this, but those people seem so strong.  I'm not strong.  I can't do this.  I realize that I don't have a choice.

My mind is racing, my emotions are running on all cylinders, and my body is exhausted.  I'm so tired, but the tears still fall.  I need to see my baby, hold him, and know that he is okay.  Where is that doctor anyway?

 If you have never accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, you can pray like this:

More tomorrow...

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