So...this is a 'mommy' blog. No fitness tips or clean eating...just plain ole' mommy stuff. Real hard core raw feelings, that only a mother can feel deep down in her gut and soul.
My oldest son (14) has braces, actually has had them on for 2 years now. We've been 'anxiously, patiently' waiting for ONE adult tooth to make it's appearance so we can tug it into place and BE DONE with the whole braces thing. The tooth, stubborn and....well, it's in the middle of his palate....what the heck is it doing there?! Stuck. Confused. Not moving. We've waited long enough. SOOOOOO..oral surgery is where he was headed. "Oh a simple square of the palate cut out, apply a bracket....and oh yes a small CHAIN that will be attached to his current appliances to force the disobedient tooth into place. Simple. Well, sedation will be needed, and there is always a risk with that as you know. Mrs. Stevens, here is your estimated out of pocket cost, insurance will not be covering any portion, payment is your responsibility and due at time of service." Hmmm. Excuse me, I'm still trying to process the whole cutting of the palate, stitches, probably 2-3 days of down time, swelling and the IV sedation thing, and your talking what it's going to cost me?! *sigh* Oh the sadness. Has the medical field forgotten that we are parents who are armed and ready to take down any sorry sap who makes the mistake of hurting or EVEN insinuating being the cause of any what so ever pain to our child....please Doc, proceed with caution....I am a mother lion and I am SOOO ready to bite.
My son, an amazing soul, has unfortunately inherited my high anxiety. Today, when waking him for his shower to prepare for the invasion....he turned to me sleepily and said with hooded eyes "you promise I'll be ok, right?" I leaned down and kissed my little man's head and assured him that all was going to be ok. He struggled to get up and headed to the shower that I already had warming up for him and turned to me with deep worried brown eyes "promise?" You bet your ass I promise. I smiled and hugged him tight and realized, once again just how big this boy is. Not a boy anymore. A young man. He's towers over me. I could see he was worried. Nervous. Scared. He's never like medical procedures, of course, who really does. He has slight memories of painful tests due to hydronephrosis that he was born with....obviously shaping the person he has become. He knew this day was coming, I mean it's been blaring at him on the 'family' calendar for weeks now, right. Poor thing. I must reconsider my ultra organizing skills on the family calendar to spare him the anticipation.
I hand him the required/advised prescribed Valium after his shower and instructed him to 'swallow it down, it'll help you relax'. (shouldn't they have given the anxious mother one too?!) And off we head to the facility....after many many many inquiring questions from the nervous 14 year old, who knew he was about to have his palate CUT into, we arrive in the lot, with time for one more question....."you'll be with me, right?" I vaguely remember that, no, I will not be allowed back for surgery....oh yes, those feelings of..."you're kidding me right? I'm suppose to hand over my 'man child' to you so you can stick a needle in his arm and saw into the roof of his mouth? What, while I wait in the waiting room...watching the clock tick tock while becoming extremely annoyed with the waiting patients who, undoubtedly will be coughing and making weird mouth noises....I'm irritated". A smile will do for my boy now as we head into the unexpected.
After checking in....I turn to find my 'man boy' splayed out on one of the two leather couches in the lounge......slightly embarrassed of his manners, I quickly scanned the room and landed on an old crotchety woman who was glaring at my big boy, who has now moved into the fetal position. His glassy brown eyes half closed stared at mine....searching for answers. Shit. Why do I not have any answers?
I reach him in record time with strides way out of my short stature 'comfort zone', and slide gently onto the couch next to him, our eyes never leaving each others. He shifted his entire body and leaned into mine. I wrapped my arm around him and he pressed his head deep into the crook of my neck. I could feel his breathing...his anxiety....his need for me to make this 'all better' was evident. Time stood still. My man child in my arms...just admitting he needed/wanted me with him. This was heaven for me. I mean really, how many 14 year olds fall into their moms arms....that's just not 'cool' with them right now.....I was going to milk this for as long as I could. Ok. I know. Maybe, just MAYBE the Valium had a little bit of something to do with his sudden show of affection towards the 'forbidden mom'....but whatever, I'll take it when I can get it from my teenage boy. My man boy, with the weird man legs with wiry black hair. He's still my baby....my baby with some other man's legs and, oh geez, man parts. Shit. I'm so not ready for this. Please pray for me. Then the door creaks open and we hear 'Mr. Stevens'.....he glances up at me and for a moment I flashback to his infancy years. It was the look he gave me. His soul coming through all of the weird annoying teenage crap...just his pure raw soul looking at me...scared. I squeezed his hand and we moved towards the door. Then....the nurse....holding her hand up to me...with navy blue glitter tips on her nails, says, "I'll take him from here Mrs. Stevens, please have a seat in the waiting area". Ok, what did you just say? And please put that tacky ass hand down. Really, Trixie, do you have any idea who you are holding that embarrassing manicure up to? I am his mother, who watched that child endure painful tests, and held him and rocked him endless hours...and you say I'll take him from here.....give me some scrubs Trixie and I won't put you in a headlock....her hand was on my boy, my man boy....step away from my boy. I give her a 'once over', which is my 'dirty look' and if you know me you know the look and you know it's completely readable and annoying....there's probably raising of the eyebrows and hate shooting out like flames from eyes....really I mean no harm.....but in the heat of the moment, I actually do mean harm and I will take your ass down if you hurt any member of my family emotionally or physically. I could be your worst nightmare. (of course, I'm super tough just in MY mind) My man boy gazes at me, I compose myself from the throw down I almost had with glitter nurse, and squeeze his hand and tell him I'll be right here on this couch....no worries. And then glitter nurse shuts the door....BAM. My man boy son out of my view....no window to observe.....what's happening. I'm stuck with the crotchety ole' granny sipping on an apple juice from a straw and some other weird fellow who clears his throat and makes weird throat/mouth noises every few minutes. It's hell. Give me my boy back. To tame my anxiety and irritability I jumped up and started doing some squats and lunges....so what, stare at me.
After what seemed like hours of enduring annoying waiting room follies the door finally swung open and out emerged the 'Doc'. "Cole did great, we will be bringing him out soon". He proceeded with after surgery care/directions and so on, my ears where listening, but I had a really difficult time pulling my eyes away from the splatter of red.....blood...my man boys blood.....that sprinkled over his scrubs.
Finally I had my big boy home recovering. All was well. All over. Relieved and still confused and dazed, he spread himself out on the couch and reached up and grabbed my hand and gave it a tight squeeze as he closed his eyes and fell into slumber.