Well here I sit. At home with Plum. Daddy is pulling the all nighter at the hospital. I'm a mess. But it's ok. It's ok because I picked the right Daddy for my kids. I'm not the only one that brings comfort when they are hurting.
It all started in the pre op waiting. I answered the questions and gave the health history. I talked with the Child Life Specialist and prepared them all for what I predicted would happen. Mr. Pants was scared. Daddy played with him and held him. "No touch!", he yelled at everyone who came within a foot of him. He even went as far as to chastise the RN for listening to his heart. "My back! Not yours!", he told her, letting her know that it was his body and she had no business messing with it. He would be constantly touching his dad. Never leaving him for even a second. They even let Daddy take him to the operating room.
When Daddy came back we both let some tears flow. Fifteen minutes later they were calling us back. The surgery was over.
As we entered (ran to?) the recovery area, he was upset. He really really didn't want that blood pressure cuff. Or the IV. Or the pulse oxygen monitor. The sound of his scratchy voice stabbed through my mama heart and we set out to help calm him. He reached up and saw his daddy first. The nurse told him that he could pick him up and rock him, so that's what daddy did. And Mr. Pants relaxed into him and drifted back off to sleep. This was right about the time I realized that Daddy was The One today.
I kissed them both and headed home to care for Plum. Who, it turns out, as though she knew I needed an act of mercy, really really needed her mama tonight.