My son recently had ear surgery and it surprised me how anxious I was. He blew his ear drum so bad he was having hearing loss and needed a tissue graph to reconstruct the drum. While we checked in to the children’s hospital I was realizing this wasn’t some small procedure as I had played out in my head. While they let him practice wearing the strawberry scented anesthesia mask the doctor explained that he could experience full hearing loss or paralysis of the face. I took a deep breath and we signed all the documents verifying that we understood the risks. While signing away he was reassuring his baby doll that everything was going to be ok.
Jericho and baby Sha-baba ready for surgery.
My sweet little one was aware he was getting his ear “fixed” but for the life of him couldn’t understand why he couldn’t eat and had to wear an oversized hospital gown. It hit him that we wouldn’t be together once they wheeled him away and he was begging for answers. When stuck on the gurney and fear flashed on his face he cried for his mama and papa.
Jericho was going in for an ear surgery, not life threatening, and I know thousands frequent the children’s hospital for much more severe treatments and surgeries. The anxiety I felt was a sliver, a mere sliver, of what parents experience when they check their little ones into a hospital. For that day I held my breath while he was in surgery and waited anxiously in his recovery room for him to be wheeled in hoping his surgery had been successful. He awoke to find himself in tremendous pain and screaming while I held him down so he wouldn’t tear off his bandages. As the pain medication started to work its way through his system he started to calm down and I picked him up off the hospital bed and into my arms. I rocked him until he fell asleep and held him until we were discharged. It was a long day after 10 hours at the hospital. I couldn’t believe the bravery of my little boy and in the height of his fear he did what he knew best, call for help. I love that. I love that in his scary moment he balanced bravery with dependence.
There really is an art to choosing bravery in hard times while fully understanding you can’t do this on your own. When fear is too large a giant you must call out for help from those you trust. In the hardest times of my life I’ve witnessed strength I didn’t know I had and I’ve also been desperate in prayer, on my face, calling out for help. They go hand in hand.
Dear One, I pray you pick bravery over cowardice and dependence over isolation. Bravery coupled with dependence make us stronger, much stronger.