post op

Yesterday is over. I wouldn't label it easy but it was bearable. It was a means to an end. 


I was able to hold it together though it's quite likely only due to the mom whose baby was also getting tubes in the triage directly beside us and her radical stoicism pressuring me to do the same. I didn't want to embarrass Edie in front of another baby like that. Like she doesn't have enough to deal with already, being known as the girl with "the cry baby Mom" at playschool seemed a little unnecessary on my part to add to the pile.  


Joe told me that I surprised him. Truth be told, I surprised myself. I was expecting hysterics once they took her from me so it's reassuring to know that I'm more in control of the outward expression of my emotions than I believed. WHO KNEW?!


Have you ever witnessed a baby coming out of anesthesia? Trying to hold her through this ordeal looked a lot like me trying to not drop a terrified, flailing, possessed twenty-five pound tree sloth who also bites. We were assured that her behavior was normal but it was kind of alarming as fuck. 


Beyond that, the day was rather uneventful which, given the circumstances, I wasn't mad at. I napped, Edie napped, Mo and Joe napped. A lot of baths were taken. Edie seemed to be in better spirits than she had in weeks. The night did get a little lively around 1 a.m. when, apparently, Edie remembered the day' events and decided that she was positively pissed. Around 3:30, she finally got bored with her own voice and fell back asleep.


After walking back down the short hallway from her room to my own, after collapsing back into bed face first, and after feeling convinced that, contrary to Google's promise, one could die from exhaustion, I found myself so deeply overwhelmed with gratitude.


For a lot of things.


But mostly for her.


Even when she doesn't sleep and even when she screams at me in the middle of the night, I am so, so grateful for my Edie.