Prior to my airway collapsing again my most used sayings were "hurry up," "no," "stop," "don't," and "we don't have time." I had failed to realize that when you stand a mere two and a half feet tall and have never seen the majority of the facets of the world that even something as mundane as a grocery store is to an adult is a large, stimulating adventure to my children. I failed to realize that by my consistent telling them to hurry up or that we didn't have time to stop and blow the fluff off of one more dandelion I was continually validating to my child that I didn't have time for them to exist. Harsh sounding, right? Think about it, when you're a baby, toddler, child, etc what is your sole purpose in this world? To discover, to explore, to learn all you can and by nature little ones do it with repetitive passion and joy that I envy. My rushing them through, half acknowledging while dashing to the next errand that I now can't even remember what it was, impacted them more than I realized at the time. The particular instance I am thinking of occurred almost 24 months ago. My son just came up to me, snuggled on my lap and recanted to me exactly where we were, what he was wearing and how I made him sad when I didn't let him blow one last flower because 'those flowers are wish flowers and he had a really special wish he needed to make.' Twenty four months later my son still remembers me telling him no and all for something that didn't matter in the long run but him losing his wish still impacts him.
My airway collapsing again has given me a gift, several of them. For the first time I am appreciating my children. I am appreciating their tempers, I am appreciating their hugs, their kisses and even their telling me no. I am realizing just how quickly they grow and just how much I won't be needed one day, how these little kisses and snuggles and blowing of numerous wish flowers will all soon but disappear in the wind. I can't blow the fluff off of a dandelion, I have no air coming out of my mouth. My children, on their own accord, realized this and now when they bring wish flowers to me they tell me to think really hard on my wish and hold onto them and they will blow it for me and my wish will flow through me into them and still come true. "You just have to believe, mommy, just give it time." What a good motto to live by.
As this week winds down I am sad but so full of hope and fear. I am sad that on Monday my kids go to my moms so I can leave on Tuesday to go to Cincinnati Children's Hospital to pursue treatment. I am sad that I am going to be away from them and miss out on the day to day little-isms that just make me stop and smile. I am so hopeful that Cincinnati can help me, that maybe, just maybe I can get my tracheostomy out. Don't get me wrong, life isn't horrible with it, it isn't unmanageable, it's just not something I would chose if there is another alternative out there. I am so hopeful that it makes me afraid. I don't want to be let down. Tuesday is my ENT appointment and I have a feeling the conversation may be difficult to hear. Thursday I get to see Pulmonary and Friday I have surgery with both ENT and Pulmonary being there so we can form the best possible game plan. I have never wanted time to go so fast and yet so slow at the same time. I'm doing my best to prepare for it and what it all comes down to is I need to take my children's advice and I'm going to just have to believe, and give it time.