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| Only a few days to go |
The night before surgery I was
tucked up in a hospital bed only a few metres away from Boston and yet I missed him. Eight months of waiting had passed in what seemed a blink of the eye, here we were, was I ready to let it happen? An uneventful day left me feeling relaxed and with little trepidation, it seemed Boston felt the same because it was bath time
and off to bed at 5pm just like every other night. The sun rose on surgery day with me catching a mere 3 hours sleep, jumped the gun with my routine confidence, apparently getting
through sleep cycles with lights flashing, machines beeping and
babies crying isn't such an easy task for young Boz.
Surgery day felt like a blur. Through
tired eyes we both struggled without the comfort of a bottle (Boston
had to fast and it seemed wrong for me to steal his milk). The lights, beeps and cries continued to prove too much
stimulus and as the day wore on Boston approached cracking point.
Super team Steve and my mum were standing by with entertainment and
cuddles, no doubt the day would have been ten times more
stressful without their constant dedication. My nerves were beginning to mount, surgery
was so close we could touch it and I struggled to shut down my brain as much as
possible, trying not to get too emotionally drained. When the nurses
said it was time to go my stomach did a flip, my heart began to race
and instead of wanting to run away I really just wanted to have it
all over NOW!
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| last weekend exploring with daddy and lovely flowers from Shelly and Stu |
As we entered the waiting room Boston reached over tiredness meltdown, so as I answered the same
questions over and over (full name, date of birth, what surgery is he
having, allergies, is this your signature signing your son away???) I
rocked back and forth and bounced my little man, so before his baby
sized sleep mask was over his eyes...Boston was asleep. The whole time
my blood was pumping and my head was swimming...what was I thinking? nothing... everything I could have thought about I didn't
want to. It was actually nice to feel his body completely relax in my
arms before I handed him to the team. Then we just had to walk away.
Feeling over tired, overwhelmed and
pretty sick in my stomach we walked out into the humid air of
Brisbane in search of food and a source of distraction. The wait felt
quite numb. I didn't want to let all the what if's keep running
through my head (though some did manage to bowl their way through) so we
ate, I took lots of deep breaths and turned to a calming tea
to sooth my nerves. Every few minutes I would send Boston some
love, which seemed to make everything feel better. I even saw the
irony in the tea shop giving us a mini hourglass to time the steeping
tea (like sand through the hour glass these are the moments we just
need to pass).
Three hours later
we made our way back to the hospital in pouring rain and $3 ponchos.
We sat in the waiting room with all the other anxious family members, crossing fingers our little cherubs were safe. Then Dr Theile
popped his scrubs up'ed self around the corner and called Boston's
name. His relaxed body language and light tone told me what I needed
to hear, but the words “everything went great” were truly music
to my ears.
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| Our adorable mushroom baby day 1 post operation |
Even though we
still had a long few weeks ahead of us so many fears evaporated in
those moments. I could have jumped for joy and the grin spread
across my face told the story. It was over an hour before we
got to see our little guy with his head all wrapped up so
beautifully. Some of the tears I kept letting escape greeted him in
his ICU bed. It was the first time I had seen him look “sick”, bandaged with tubes coming in and out from almost every limb
available. But it wasn't a sad moment...just overwhelming, there was a
lot of joy in just being able to touch him and hear him.
There was something
else happening that night, a family lost their son in a room only ten
meters from Boston. Of all the things that had happened that day
hearing his dad's voice made me lose it. I realised their reality was
the worst case scenario I had played in my head for that same day. My
heart ached for them. It was an accident, not a planned surgery and
it made me realise that we all share a risk of having to say goodbye
to our children, a reminder to live in the moment with joy and love.
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| Ahhhhhh my hair is freeeeeeee |
The next few days
blurred together. A mix of medical observations, blood pressure,
heartrate, temperature, fluids. Different experts
stopped by each day; neurologists, plastic surgeons, pain management,
paediatricians. A few days in and you look forward to the familiar
faces, especially when they give you good news “looking great”
“on track recovery” “you'll be home soon”. Day and night
don't have the wonderful divisions they do in the outside world.
Night has lights, voices, cries, checks and all the monitoring that
envelopes each day.
As the days passed
the amount of tubes and machines attached to Boston started to go
down along with my nerves. His drowsy self became more alive and even with eyes swollen
shut for 48 hours he managed to smile and play. KIDS ARE AMAZING, when they are sick and in pain they let you know but as soon as they
are well there is no feeling sorry for themselves, they get right on
with the most important things in life. When we hit day 5 post op and Boston starting pulling his IV cords, I crossed my fingers we would be
home sooner rather then later.
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| Horses, balloons and getting packed to head home |
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| Easter weekend with a new look and a sweet scar |
Each day brought a
wave of relief, we were one step closer to being home and having our
super special little guy back to perfect health. Seeing your baby go
through any medical experience breaks your heart, from stomach bugs
to major surgery, you deal with that feeling of helplessness. But here we are on the OTHER SIDE and it feels AMAZING!!! Every day Boston is getting back
to his old self (even his crazy sleep patterns are settling with a
little help from homeopathy and bodytalk). I have to keep reminding
myself that everything is okay, (OH MY GOSH IT TRULY IS OKAY) then I smile and feel the joy in my
belly, our little man is home safe...
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| Cheeky Gow Cousins |
p.s A big massive huge THANK YOU to our wonderful friends and family who have sent Boston so much love and been amazing support through a BIG challenge in a little mans life, you are irreplaceable and loved very much xoxox
p.p.s To the team at The Mater, thank you from the bottom of our hearts. You made us feel safe and at home through our most difficult challenge yet. The plastic and neuro teams are brilliant, and to the wonderful nurses in ward 7 south...Boston won't miss the needles but he will definitely miss your smiling wonderful faces.
