So, the weekend before this one that just passed, I started
noticing an excessive amount of formula and baby food coming out of Gabriel’s
nose. I told Chad I wanted to look in
his mouth, but Chad advised me not to, because I just get paranoid.
That Sunday, I went to pick up some food for lunch. Upon my return, Gabriel was sleeping on Chad’s
lap and Chad asked me to grab a flashlight because he thought he saw a hole in
Gabriel’s new palate. I grabbed a
flashlight and took a look – sure enough, there appeared to be a hole
there. I couldn’t be certain if the hole
went all the way through to the nasal cavity or not, as I am not an expert, so
I decided not to panic just yet.
We had a regularly scheduled follow-up with Gabriel’s
plastic surgeon that Monday. I told him
I thought there might be a hole. When he
looked into Gabriel’s mouth, he said, ‘yeah, there’s a hole.’
After apologizing to our baby, he told me we would be having
surgery in 2-4 weeks to repair the hole as it is large and the nasal cavity is
exposed. I asked if this was common, and
he indicated that it is when dealing with such a large cleft.
Surgery has been scheduled for next Tuesday, November 13th
at 10:30 in the morning. It should last
for three hours and will again require us to spend the night in the hospital
for observation.
Funny thing is, when our surgeon said we’d be going back
into surgery, I had absolutely no reaction.
Perhaps it was because I was stunned, or maybe I saw it coming. I don’t know.
What I do know is, I made some calls to Chad and our families, made
arrangements for my work, called my friend to see if she could stay with our
dog, and went about my day.
When I fell asleep later, I woke to that horrible
realization that it wasn’t all just a dream.
It was real. We were doing this
again. Already. That’s when I fell apart.
Once the complete sadness passed, the anger set in.
A week later and I’m still
pissed.
At a time when a parent is planning for their baby to taste
their first Thanksgiving dinner, smash a handful of cake into their mouth on
their first birthday, and eat their first Christmas cookie, my baby will do
none of that.
People keep telling me that there are many more
Thanksgivings, birthdays, and Christmas’s to come, but these are his first (ok,
technically not his first Christmas, but he was only three weeks old last year
at Christmas). Parents go crazy
documenting all of the things that happen in their children’s first year of
life. What have I documented? A first smile, a first laugh, a first
surgery, a second surgery, a third surgery, and oh yeah, a fourth surgery.
There is something just so unfair about a baby having their
fourth surgery in their first year of life.
After this surgery, he will have had more surgeries in one year than
most people have in their entire lives.
I don’t want this for him.
I don’t want him to think this is normal. I understand he won’t remember this – but it
isn’t over, and that makes me mad too.
2011 was a horrible year for me personally. Someone I love dearly (as previously
mentioned) was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer and we were told our child would
be born with a BLCLP. I waved goodbye to
2011 thinking that 2012 would be my year.
Forget 2011, it didn’t happen.
Then, in 2012, my loved one continues their battle with
cancer (although technically there is no evidence of disease right now, but is
still going through chemo), my grandfather passes away, my eldest son is
diagnosed with ADHD, a core member of our family suffers a series of strokes,
and my infant son is having his fourth surgery in one year. So much for 2012 being my year. If 2013 doesn’t bring better things with it,
I will likely pull the cover over my head, lie in bed, and just wait it out.
I’m sick and tired of proving my strength over and over again. If God has some great lesson or plan for me,
I can’t understand why He just doesn’t tell me what it is so I can have one
shot at actually being successful.
Because, right now, successful is not what I feel.
At any rate, I also wanted to thank those of you who have
reached out to us during the recovery from this last surgery. Your offers of thoughts, prayers, meals,
babysitting, playtime, and everything have not gone unnoticed and were very
much appreciated. I apologize for not
responding to many of you. You must
believe me when I say that in the past month, I have not wanted to speak to
anyone – not my family or closest friends even.
It’s been a very dark place that we have been living in.
I know the light will start to shine again for us soon. But I can almost guarantee it’s not going to be this year…
