Carrying your tiny baby into an operating room where they are about to undergo surgery is one of those moments that stay with you forever.
Every time Finn gives me THAT look.
The one that says ‘Mummy what’s going on, why are we here, who are all these weird people wearing pyjamas, why is this mask being held on my face, I’m scared, can you take me home now please’… and then the eyes finally close.
The first time I took Finn into theatre I was feeling nervous myself, I’ve never been inside an operating room before and a big sterile room full of people wearing matching hospital PJ’s was all rather alien and confronting.
It is undoubtedly better for the baby having a parent there as it’s comforting for them to see a familiar face until they are asleep. And overall a much less distressing experience for them. But for me, not so much!
The agonising wait while Finn is in theatre is equally as nerve-wracking. If they say it will be an hour, it feels like five. And every minute that drags by adds another hour. Even though you know they always take longer than they say, it’s pretty impossible not to let your mind go into overdrive and think ‘why is it taking so long???’
So today while we waited for Finn to have surgery number four (yep that’s four in nine months), I’m distracting myself by writing this blog post… and they have run over time by 47 minutes and 22 seconds (but hey, who’s counting?!).
Post-op seeing little Finny laying on a big hospital bed coming around after anaesthetic reminds me what a strong and determined little trooper he is.