I noticed you this morning, cradling your little one as you waited for check-in, trying to maintain a cheerful demeanor to ease your child’s nerves. I saw you respond to the endless requests: “Please complete these forms,” “Do you have any questions?” “Let’s check your child’s vitals,” and “Time for pre-op.” Your determination shone through, even as I could hear the thoughts racing in your mind: Why does it have to be this way? We will get through this.
In the pre-op area, I observed the long wait as nurses and doctors moved about, tending to numerous children, each with their own stories and fears. You managed to smile through your anxiety as your child laughed at a nurse blowing bubbles. It was heartwarming to see the gratitude on your face when she showed kindness, especially as your little one hesitated to put on the hospital gown.
Healthcare professionals came to check in, all doing their best to keep you both at ease, complimenting your child and asking if you had questions. But deep down, all you wanted was to take your child home and erase this experience from your life. You simply replied, “No, no questions.”
I watched you rock your baby, trying to maintain calm in this unfamiliar environment. Your partner, Tom, comforted your daughter, attempting to distract her with a funny video on his phone.
Eventually, the moment arrived when they came to take your child away. The struggle on your face was palpable—a final tight hug, a last kiss as you entrusted your precious one to a stranger. No matter how friendly the nurse was, you felt a loss of control, and as your child’s cries echoed, you held back tears and grasped Tom’s hand tightly.
I saw you until the very last moment as they carried your baby away, before you turned to gather your things and head to the waiting room.
You sat down, organized your bags and your child’s belongings, bowed your head in prayer, and then sat in stillness, waiting for what felt like an eternity. You attempted to distract yourself by engaging with other parents nearby, trying to read or rest, all while stealing glances at the surgery schedule. Hope flickered in your eyes each time a doctor in scrubs entered, only to dim when they called someone else’s name. You looked out the window, texted, and continued to wait.
When your name was finally called, I saw you rush to the doctor for updates, nodding and squeezing Tom’s hand. Relief and anticipation washed over you as you gathered your things to head to recovery where you would finally see your child again. At that moment, the surgery’s outcome mattered little; what truly counted was holding your little one close. You listened to the medical instructions, your focus solely on your child, examining the lines and tubes before pulling them closer and gently rocking back and forth.
As you were discharged, you glanced back at the waiting room. You took in the caring faces of the hospital staff, the children in wheelchairs, and the parents who wore expressions of determination. In that moment, you thought to yourself, I see you. You will get through this.
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In summary, the journey through the hospital can be daunting for parents. Yet, with the support of one another and the healthcare team, you can navigate these challenging moments. Together, you will overcome.