I Got This

Dear Mira Joy,

Nine months ago you scared the shit out of everyone. Nine months ago you had your first surgery.  Nine months ago, I wrote you a letter.

Today, I wanted to write you another one.

A few days ago, you had your second surgery. It was a routine procedure that a lot of children have.  I had it when I was 14. You were 1 ½.

After several months of obstructive sleep apnea, severe congestion, an around the clock runny nose, a second opinion (aggressively requested by yours truly) and an X-ray, you finally had your tonsils and adenoids removed.

Similar to your spinal decompression surgery, this one was necessary and even critical. We knew your development and (ready for the dramatics?) your life depended on it.  Your doctor said your adenoids and tonsils were blocking 75% and 50% of your airway respectively. They were contributing to all of the aforementioned issues. They were suffocating you.

So they fixed it.

Although this surgery was much more routine and much less invasive than your first one, for Mommy, this was much more difficult. We had more time to prepare, which meant more time to agonize over putting you through this once again. You would think by now, I would be better prepared to handle the stress and worry, know what to expect and figure out how to get it together. 

This time it was harder simply because you are older and wiser. You can tell when something is going on, you have figured out who those people in the light blue scrubs are, and as of lately, you prefer to be on the move and not confined to a hospital crib, or the restraint of an IV line.

We knew that these procedures would be a possibility; we had hoped that they wouldn’t, but we have also learned to be realistic and just handle one at time. What we didn’t know was the sheer grace in which you would handle yourself throughout these very challenging times.  You my girl, are the epitome of soul and strength.

I know you won’t remember any of this, so I wanted to make sure I captured one very specific moment. This time, I got to carry you into the operating room and place you down on the table. Surrounded by several strange faces and harsh bright lights you looked at me with those fierce eyes with an “I got this” look on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

You did, and you do. You’ve got this Mira.

We are so proud of you.

Love,

Mommy and Daddy