Change Is In The Air

Tomorrow is the day of Rex’s first cleft palate repair. As any parent, I am nervous about him being away from me in surgery and under general anesthesia. I am anxious about his level of pain after the procedure and about how he will recover. But a part of me is also feeling sentimental. Closing Rex’s palate means that we are taking away another little piece of who he is, another tiny bit of his history. I know what we are doing is for the greater good in his life, but my heart still hurts because progress has to come with yet another loss for him.

I will miss Rex’s hazardous food sneezes at mealtimes and I will miss his vigorous digging for leftovers which will be just plain old nose-picking after the surgery. I will miss the way his voice sounds and the constant stream of drool from his mouth. I don’t even remember what it feels like not to have my own shirt drenched in toddler spit all day long. And there’s never been a morning when I have lifted him out of his crib and not found parts of last night’s dinner on the sheet.

I was sharing these feelings with a good friend of mine and she pointed out that American thinking is frequently about fixing things and making them perfect, but that my perspective on the surgery is more along the lines of preserving and making whole the little person entrusted to me. In my eyes, Rex is already perfect. I know he needs this repair and I cannot wait to see what it will do for his development. But I do also grieve this loss from which I cannot protect him and, to some extent, the impending change in this wondrous little creation I am blessed to call my son.