Monday, April 9, 2012
I haven't written in while, but it's because most of my limited free time is now spent working on my book. Frankly, I am so far behind on making and mailing out gifts to friends and sending thank you notes and cards, that I am amazed I get to blog at all. Since we aren't ready to put Baby Girl into nursery school, I'll just have to blog less and be behind on just about everything. I remind myself that this phase in her life is so short and in time things will get done.
I do have a big (and unwelcomed) event coming up so I somehow found the time today to blog. I am writing to shamelessly solicit prayers, well wishes, and healing vibes. Whatever positive energy you are willing to send, I'll take.
On Wednesday, I am having extensive oral surgery which will hopefully (fingers crossed) be the last attempt needed to repair my mouth. I was born with a cleft lip and I also have a cleft in my upper jaw. Even though my lip was fixed through several surgeries during my childhood, the cleft in my jaw has caused lots of significant (and expensive!) issues into my adulthood. The last surgery, at age 27, attempted to graft some of my hip bone into my jaw. It was unsuccessful. Let's hope this one is the last.
You would think that with 4 surgeries for this issue under my belt already, I would be a pro. But, as I cried to my husband last night, I am scared. I draw strength from the son of my high school friend, Jodi. Ari, who has VATER syndrome, has had over 65 surgeries already and he is only four. If that brave little boy can make it though all of those, I can make it through one more myself.
And I am in good hands. My doctor pretends to be tough, but he is such a softy. His assistant told me he moved us his shoulder surgery up just so he would be ready for my surgery. My mother-in-law (Miss Gwen) is coming to take care of Baby Girl while I recover. I won't be able to bend over or pick her up for 3-4 days (which I can't imagine.) But I am grateful for Dr. Parel and Miss Gwen and also my hubby who took the day off from work to take me to and from the surgery.
Last night, during my teary conversation with my husband, I told him something I wanted him to know- just in case. "If something bad happens during my surgery and I die, I want you to know that I died happy because I finally became a mother." Now, I don't think I am going to die, but you never know. My husband is a surgeon, and he comes home with crazy stories all the time about people who died during seemingly routine surgery. So when he tried to tell me I wasn't going to die, I reminded him of his stories and he was silent.
So, prayers please dear readers. For me and little Ari.