Tongue-Tied

I took Molly into the dentist earlier this week.  Just a routine cleaning, didn't think much of it beyond something we had to do that day.  Molly was excited, and did great!  Chatted with the hygienist, followed instructions, easy-peasy. 

Then when the dentist came in, he confirmed she has her first cavity.  Bummer, but not too much of a shock (we've been eating probably too much junk lately and not being diligent about brushing before bed).  Then he also says that she's tongue-tied, and very much so in fact.  Really?  I wonder how we haven't caught this before.  She had no issues nursing, and it doesn't seem to effect her in any other way.  But she really can't lift her tongue even high enough to touch her top teeth with her mouth opened.  He suggested we get it "released" through a procedure with the Oral Surgeon. 

As they explained what they do, and how they do it, I started to feel more and more upset.  Panicky almost.  Nitrous Oxide, or laughing gas would probably be used, but may use more anesthesia if needed in addition to local anesthetic.  The procedure would take not too long, the bleeding would stop fairly quickly, recovery is minor....As we went to the receptionist to get the appointments scheduled I really was almost in tears.  Wow, calm down Heidi, I thought.  This is seriously not a big deal.  We got the appointments made and we went on with our day. 

But I remained upset about it the rest of the afternoon.  The words anesthesia, bleeding, recovery generated such a strong reaction in me that took me off guard, and I couldn't talk myself out of it.   And it seems so silly.  This is small potatoes compared to what we've been through.  But it dawned on me, maybe that's just it.  It's not after what we've been through it's not a big deal, but because of what we've been through, it is a big deal.  Almost like all our past trauma has made me so much more sensitive, skittish about any sort of procedure, however minor.  Like PTSD or something, although that sounds dramatic.

The thought of taking her in, keeping her calm and relaxed, waiting for it to be done, seeing her after really brought out so much emotion.  I started getting flashbacks of so many times we sent Drew back to the OR to get his line removed or replaced, biopsies or his big surgery.  We didn't freak out then.  We held it together.  For him, and for us.  We had to stay focused, we had a long road ahead of us.  He needed to be calm and not afraid, for all the he had to face.  And so did we.  Through the strength of God, we sat with him in pre-op, waved as he went back alone and fully awake, and waited for him to return groggy and out-of-it without ever shedding a tear.

But now it's almost like I know the stakes aren't high.  That its okay to freak out a little, and I kind of want to.  To let out over a year's worth of emotion I've held in.  For every time we were afraid, upset, and anxious but didn't show it.  Because the truth is, it was scary.  It did bother me so deeply to let him go back there alone to have his body cut into. Every. Time.  I wished it was me, and not my sweet, happy little boy.  It seemed so unfair to take this happy child that was so oblivious to what was going on and do something to him that hurt. That would take hours and days to recover from.

 I'd see the reactions, the emotions I felt inside, on friend's and family's faces who sometimes accompanied us to different surgeries and procedures throughout the year, but I buried it.  Put on a brave face because I had to.  Someone commented last year, "I guess you can either feel or function sometimes, but not both.  And unfortunately right now, you guys have to function."  And we did function, well.  But now its time for us to do the feeling part.

This stupid tongue-tie release procedure is just the first time these feelings have resurfaced, and have an opportunity to be felt.  I've tried to hold back my reaction in front of Molly--she's actually excited for the procedure because she thinks she'll be able to whistle after it!  Bless her heart.  Even explaining what they'll do doesn't seem to bother her, "When will they snip my tongue so I can whistle?  Tomorrow??"  So I guess that's good.  I mean, of course it is.  I am so thankful she's not upset too.  Once again, God is taking care of me in my struggle by relieving me from having to settle her down too.  But she did say she doesn't want them to put her to sleep.   How sad is it at five years old she knew right away about being put to sleep when we said "surgery"...

Does it seem like every week there's something?  Because it does to me.  A memory from last year, a event that has me aching to watch my little boy enjoy, a milestone Molly is reaching that Drew never will, and then unexpected things like this tongue-tied procedure which trigger intense reactions.  It's exhausting.  I'm seeing why so many grief books call your journey "grief work"--it is a lot of work.  A lot of mental, emotional, and even physical energy.  I wonder how long it'll be like this.  How many "rows" I have before the field is plowed.  Or will it ever be?  It has to get less intense.  I can't do this forever.  I'm telling myself I'm getting through the bulk of it now.  And someday it'll be easier.  I'll have bad days, I'll have rough times again, but it won't be so back to back.  I cling to that hope right now as I am getting so exhausted.  So tired of having to fight so hard each day to end up on the right side of the Truth in the end.  But by the Grace of God, so far, I've been able to.  Keep praying with me I can continue to end up there.  And feel His peace.