Peanut’s Smile

  Surgery day always makes me want to turn around and run the other way. No matter how many times we’ve done this, it never gets easier. I always find myself fighting that quiet voice that whispers   this is my fault. It breaks my heart to see Peanut in pain, to know that I have to hand him over and trust that he’ll be okay. I place him in the anesthesiologist’s arms, give one last kiss, and whisper a prayer that he feels safe, even when I can’t be with him. Then comes the waiting room, a room full of emotional parents, each one silently praying for a quick but safe surgery. You can feel the tension, the fear, the hope all tangled together. One by one, families get called back, reunited with their little ones, and the room grows emptier. Each time another parent walks out with relief on their face, I’m happy for them, but I also feel that sting in my chest. I want it to be my turn. I just want to see my baby.

  The night before surgery is probably the worst night ever. It’s like Christmas Eve, except instead of excitement, it’s anxiety that fills your stomach. I can never sleep. Every possible scenario floods my mind as I toss and turn, begging my brain to rest. This time, it’s hitting me harder. Peanut doesn’t really understand what’s coming. We spent today having fun, trying to keep things light and normal, but tomorrow we’ll walk him down that long hallway and hand him over to the surgical team. He’ll wake up in pain, swollen and confused, and I can’t explain why. I know it’s necessary, but knowing that doesn’t make it easier. I don’t know why God allows little babies to endure so much. I spend the night pleading for understanding, wondering if I ever will. The night before surgery is the worst night. But as I watch him sleep, I’m reminded how brave he is, and how steady God’s hand has been through it all. Tomorrow will bring hard moments, but it will also bring healing. And tonight,...

  My baby is turning one, and my mind is racing like crazy. I love the boy he’s turning into, but my little baby is no more. From newborn to toddler happens way too fast. Those first few months they need you constantly, but before you know it, they’re rolling over, crawling, walking, and starting to talk. They grow in independence and begin to play on their own. Where did the time go? I love watching his personality shine brighter each day, but I miss the snuggles and endless cuddles. I’ve grown so much in the past year too—it takes a lot to be a parent and to grow through postpartum. It’s hard to embrace all the change that happens in just 12 months, because time truly feels like a thief. But even as time keeps moving, I’m grateful for every stage—every giggle, every milestone, every moment that’s made me his mama.

Tonight, I feel like I’m at a breaking point. Jack’s surgery went so well! His lip looks amazing, and his nose is so round and symmetrical. They originally estimated the procedure would take just over four hours, but it only took about three. We checked in at 7 AM, they took him back at 9 AM, and by 1 PM, we were finally reunited with our boy. The hardest part has been getting his pain under control. Coming off anesthesia was rough—he was in so much pain, and it felt like we spent the next six hours just trying to catch up. We’re hopeful that we’re finally ahead of it now. Fingers crossed. 🤞🏻 Eating has been a challenge, but he’s trying so hard. He’s only had two full bottles, but he’s taking little bits every few hours. You can tell it hurts, but he still wants to eat. We’ll take what we can get. As long as he stays hydrated, that’s all that matters right now. Since he had facial reconstruction, there are a lot of stitches in his favorite place—his mouth. My little guy loves to munc...

As I mentioned in a past entry, Peanut will have at least three surgeries. The first one happens at just four months old, and we’re now in the final weeks leading up to it. I’m so excited for him to get the help he needs and to grow into his new smile.   What I wasn’t prepared for is the mourning of his “old” smile. His first smile—the one I’ve memorized and cherished—will forever be changed. With reconstructive surgery, his lip shape, his nose shape, and everything about his smile will be different. I know this is what’s best for him, but I can’t help feeling sad to lose that first little smile. I just keep reminding myself how lucky we are—we get to fall in love with two different smiles when most families only get one.   This surgery will take about four hours. He’ll be under general anesthesia, and he’ll also get tubes placed in his ears to help drain fluid and hopefully improve his hearing. The surgeons will bring his lip muscle and tissue together, shaping and aligning h...

Did you know that most babies with a cleft palate struggle with hearing loss? The hole in the palate allows fluid to ebb and flow in and out of the ear, causing them to hear muffled sounds. That’s something I didn’t know could happen because of a cleft. It’s so interesting how a cleft diagnosis can affect so much—who would have thought it could lead to hearing loss? I’m sure somebody knew that, but I sure didn’t.   Peanut will have tubes placed in his ears at four months to help clear the fluid and, hopefully, improve his hearing. It’s strange to think that he may not have truly heard me talk, or that all the times we’ve been loud to help him adjust to sounds could have been for nothing. But at the same time, he could be hearing us—he could be responding to our voices, not just our movements and expressions. There’s just no real way to know. It’s mind-blowing.   This realization has really changed the way I look at our interactions. Every little coo, every turn of his head, ev...