This morning was to be a traumatic one for my littlest. She chipped a tooth at the beginning of August, and today was the day she was scheduled to have it repaired. We needed to be up bright and early, she couldn't have anything to eat or drink, and she would be taken into the operating room by one of the nurses. I would see her again when she had woken up, and we would need to stay at the surgical centre for an hour, with her IV in, before we could go home.
Things went better than I expected. She woke up in quite good spirits, didn't mention wanting anything to drink, and was content to play with me in the waiting room. She was content to be weighed, measured, and have her temperature taken with a stranger, so long as I was there. She didn't cling to me too much when it was time for her to leave me, and she didn't cry for me at all. What a brave little one.
The dentist indicated she came through the surgery quite nicely. And then I could hear the screaming. Yes, she woke up literally kicking and screaming. When I took her from the nurses arms, she was quite clear that she was uncomfortable, disoriented, scared, and desperately wanting that IV out. No, she didn't want a sticker. No, she didn't want to read a book. No, she didn't want to walk around. She wanted that IV out. And, something to eat, once we found the right words (because of course she doesn't know what a "popsicle" is, but she does know what a "snack" is).
My family continues to amaze me with their generosity, as I again witnessed when we arrived home. A rush to the door to greet us. A big sister painting a picture for Astrin. A big brother sharing his owls and ready to play with Astrin. A papa with frozen smoothie sticks at the ready. Intentions of writing love notes and cleaning the kitchen for me. All good, thoughtful stuff.
Thank you to my caring little and big ones for making a difficult day a little bit happier and nicer!