Sydney is prepping for surgery. The same week as her birthday party, a week before her actual birthday and Christmas. We are so busy, so overwhelmed with everything that all the 3 listed things entails. But it is what is best for her. It's operate Thursday, or wait til March when her surgeons has another opening, so Thursday it is.
Meanwhile I'm running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Last minute Christmas gifts, everything I need for her party, all of Nathans normal daily activities, "Post Op" appointments, Etsy orders, and all the normal daily mom duties. It's been crazy.
Then there is the surgery itself. To say the least I am a terrified nervous wreck. Putting my sweet little girl to sleep is easily one of my biggest fears. She is so small, and has so much life ahead of her. It terrifies me. I can hardly talk about it without tears streaming down my face.
But her hearing is suffering. I sat there holding her during a hearing test waiting for her to respond to the sound. The sound that I could clearly hear, and she didn't. The women conducting the test looked at me, I looked at her, tears rolling down my checks, we both knew. Her hearing is compromised, in her left ear. I sat in the parking garage and balled my eyes out. She is prefect I don't care what any doctor says.
This surgery will correct her hearing. It will get fluid off her ear drum, allowing it to move freely and respond to sounds. Noises will no longer need to get through that fluid before it reaches her eardrum for her to hear. She will no longer face ear infections constantly. Her speech development will happen normally. This surgery is what she needs, it will make her life that much better. But with any surgery there are ricks. That alone is enough to make any mom lose sleep in the weeks leading up to the surgery. But the risks are minimal, and the rewards are large. So we move forward, with faith that it will work out perfectly. And I whole hearted believe that it will, but that doesn't mean that I don't cry in fear daily when I look at her sweet, innocent face smiling happily at me.
We are doing what we and our trusted pediatrician feel is the best choice. She will feel better on the other side, she will be able to hear clearly. This is where I am in life. A choice. A choice to take a small risk with great rewards. We'll risk it, because we can't not. We love her, we want what is best. This is what we believe it is. Pray for her. Please.