But it is the moment when my little guy will be wheeled away from me to the surgery room that has me beside myself. The anticipation of that goodbye scene when J and I give hugs and kisses to our little man and he walks on into the operating room. Will he cry? Will he go bravely? Will he have a panicked meltdown? Can I hold it together long enough for the doors to close?
I already know C is dreading that moment more than the actual surgery because he told us as much the night of the surgery party. The hospital showed a video of a child leaving his parents to go off to surgery and that was the point that C got upset and said, "I'll have to do that to you Tuesday". It was heartbreaking except I had to pretend it was perfectly normal to send your child away to be put to sleep and operated on.
Of course when it comes to the dramatic plights of parents a tonsillectomy is pretty simple stuff compared to some of the fright and heartbreak of traumatic cancers and illnesses. I am trying to keep some perspective as I think about tomorrow. But I just can't shake that "my poor baby boy" feeling I'm getting.
He'll be fine and the end is well worth it. But anticipating that moment of saying a brief "goodbye" breaks my heart.