The night before surgery I was tucked up in a hospital bed only a few metres away from Boston and yet I missed him. Eight months of waiting had passed in what seemed a blink of the eye, here we were, was I ready to let it happen? An uneventful day left me feeling relaxed and with little trepidation, it seemed Boston felt the same because it was bath time and off to bed at 5pm just like every other night. The sun rose on surgery day with me catching a mere 3 hours sleep, jumped the gun with my routine confidence, apparently getting through sleep cycles with lights flashing, machines beeping and babies crying isn’t such an easy task for young Boz.
As we entered the waiting room Boston reached over tiredness meltdown, so as I answered the same questions over and over (full name, date of birth, what surgery is he having, allergies, is this your signature signing your son away???) I rocked back and forth and bounced my little man, so before his baby sized sleep mask was over his eyes…Boston was asleep. The whole time my blood was pumping and my head was swimming…what was I thinking? nothing… everything I could have thought about I didn’t want to. It was actually nice to feel his body completely relax in my arms before I handed him to the team. Then we just had to walk away.
Ahhhhhh my hair is freeeeeeeeThe next few days blurred together. A mix of medical observations, blood pressure, heartrate, temperature, fluids. Different experts stopped by each day; neurologists, plastic surgeons, pain management, paediatricians. A few days in and you look forward to the familiar faces, especially when they give you good news “looking great” “on track recovery” “you’ll be home soon”. Day and night don’t have the wonderful divisions they do in the outside world. Night has lights, voices, cries, checks and all the monitoring that envelopes each day.
As the days passed the amount of tubes and machines attached to Boston started to go down along with my nerves. His drowsy self became more alive and even with eyes swollen shut for 48 hours he managed to smile and play. KIDS ARE AMAZING, when they are sick and in pain they let you know but as soon as they are well there is no feeling sorry for themselves, they get right on with the most important things in life. When we hit day 5 post op and Boston starting pulling his IV cords, I crossed my fingers we would be home sooner rather then later.
Each day brought a wave of relief, we were one step closer to being home and having our super special little guy back to perfect health. Seeing your baby go through any medical experience breaks your heart, from stomach bugs to major surgery, you deal with that feeling of helplessness. But here we are on the OTHER SIDE and it feels AMAZING!!! Every day Boston is getting back to his old self (even his crazy sleep patterns are settling with a little help from homeopathy and bodytalk). I have to keep reminding myself that everything is okay, (OH MY GOSH IT TRULY IS OKAY) then I smile and feel the joy in my belly, our little man is home safe…
p.s A big massive huge THANK YOU to our wonderful friends and family who have sent Boston so much love and been amazing support through a BIG challenge in a little mans life, you are irreplaceable and loved very much xoxox
p.p.s To the team at The Mater, thank you from the bottom of our hearts. You made us feel safe and at home through our most difficult challenge yet. The plastic and neuro teams are brilliant, and to the wonderful nurses in ward 7 south…Boston won’t miss the needles but he will definitely miss your smiling wonderful faces.
nella inspired 
What a very special little man you have (and such an incredible journey he put you through!)