MOTHERS' DAYS:PAST AND PRESENT

With this weekend's holiday comes the reminder of my first Mothers' Day. Although it was many years ago, I do remember that weekend as one spent with a sick infant who puzzled the doctors with her symptoms. Our pediatrician was out of town and the doctor who treated her couldn't determine what was causing her to be so sick. Finally on Sunday night, after returning to the hospital, we were given a diagnosis that required surgery as a solution.

Our little girl would undergo major surgery, time in the ICU and extra days to heal at the hospital. Prayers occupied the sleepless night before surgery as we comforted our little bitty baby. She couldn't be laid flat, so we kept her in our arms, which comforted us with her presence.

In the early hours of the morning we walked down the long, sterile hallway to hand over our baby to the waiting nurse. She promised me that she would take good care of her in the operating room and we would see her soon. Hand wringing, praying, coffee sipping, conversing in hushed tones, and surveying the swooshing of the restricted operating doors were punctuated by the ticking of the waiting room clock.

After an eternity, the doctor emerged, removed his face shield and let us know the extent of the the surgery and the expected recovery time. His matter of fact way of dealing with us was off-putting, as he was talking about a case and we were scared for our baby. Surgeons sometimes forget that there are people involved and not just cutting, repairing and healing.

In a short while I was allowed to see our baby in ICU, which was filled with many adults who were recovering from their own serious surgeries. Not having any other babies there made me even more anxious, but the nurses assured me that all would be fine. Every chance I got I was in there to rock and soothe our sweet little girl.

Her daddy was able to see her, once I had the blanket to cover as much of the life-sustaining apparatus as possible. He loved our little girl so very much and yet he had to fight the feeling of helplessness in order to go in. No one wants to see their child in such a condition and I think that mothers are somehow better equipped to overlook the beeps, wires, tubes, bags of fluids, ports, needles and other life-sustaining equipment and see the sweetness of their baby who needs the strength from their mother's eyes and touch.

Our little girl fooled everyone and her recovery was completed in record time. She was home in the time frame predicted for her release from ICU. Instead of approximately a week in the hospital, she was home in four days. Crawling around, pulling herself up and trying to walk kept her busy and brought back normalcy to our home.

Fast forward twenty-eight years and once again my little girl is getting ready to have surgery. This time, I am the Nana, the keeper of the Granlove and the cook of the "comfort food" for the recovery process. She will have her surgery (if all goes as planned) Monday and be home that evening. It's amazing how surgery is done now as compared to the one so many years ago. In preparation, menus have been planned, schedules have been coordinated and research has been done. We are all anxious for it to be Tuesday, for the beginning of healing, but unfortunately we do know that first is the surgery and all that it entails.

My first Mother's Day revolved around my little baby's surgery. Our daughter's first Mother's Day is revolving around her upcoming surgery, once again. Seems like this holiday needs a different way of being celebrated, doesn't it?

So my blog, readers, if you have extra good thoughts, positive energy, prayers for flawless surgery and speedy recovery, we sure would appreciate them.

No matter how much I will prepare for this, she is still my sweet, little girl who must have surgery and I must trust that she will come through this in good order.