#SickKidsMomStrong: Hilary
Guest blog by Hilary, mom to SickKids kid, WillaThe first time I heard our doctors mention SickKids, I was terrified. I knew that needing to be seen at SickKids meant our child's health issues were more complicated than we thought.
I spent the days leading up to our first appointment wracked with anxiety. My mind was racing and my stomach was in knots. When we entered the hospital for the first time, I cried instantly. I cried for the children I saw. Babies hooked up to machines, teens in wheelchairs, children wrapped in blankets protected from the cold of the hallways. Moms and dads in their PJ's and slippers with the most tired eyes I had ever seen. I could barely keep my composure as we navigated our way to meet Suzanne Breton, our Occupational Therapist, who we hoped would fix our baby.
Our appointment with Suzanne went well. I felt relief. I felt like we had landed where we needed to be after months and months of worrying. On our way to the car, I fell apart again when we ran into a family of six. Two parents carrying too many bags with four children walking with them. "One of those kids is sick," I thought, which meant that the whole family was going through something unimaginable. It didn't seem fair to me. Why them? Why us? Why couldn't we just have a healthy baby like everyone else I knew?
The next time we visited SickKids, it was different. I knew we were going to see Suzanne and I knew she would put us at ease. I understood that we were in the right place for Willa. I was more prepared for what I would see. We were amongst other parents who understood what life with a sick baby was like.
"I felt like we had landed where we needed to be after months and months of worrying."
I got her dressed in her hospital gown and walked to the procedure room. I put her on the X-Ray table and tried to hold her body still as she screamed and cried.
"It's ok Willa. Shhhhh. Shhhhhh."
When it was over, I picked her up and held her as tightly as I could. I sucked back my tears. My hands shook as I dressed her, still screaming. I kissed her forehead and tickled her feet. She looked up at me and smiled with tears in her eyes. She giggled. She was fine. I wasn't. I took my baby home with my hands still trembling. She won't remember that day. I will remember every detail of it forever.
Time went by and our doctors at St Mike’s thought Willa needed more help digesting food, which would require surgery. She wasn't gaining weight. She was weak and uncomfortable all the time. She wasn't thriving.
As we waited for the surgery date to approach, I coached myself again. She will wake up from anesthetic. Nothing is going to go wrong. She will be in pain but she won't remember.
I woke up on surgery day a nervous wreck. Again, I shook as we drove to the hospital. Butterflies rumbled in my stomach. I was mad that the shakiness and nausea were now familiar feelings to me. I was mad that I was familiar with the drive and knew the best places to park at a hospital that treats babies who are sick. I didn't want my baby to have a hole in her stomach and I didn't want her to feel the pain she was about to feel.
Inside, I was screaming and crying. On the outside, I smiled for my baby and sang her songs. She held my hand and shared her toys. She smiled at me. I kissed her forehead and smiled back, gathering strength from my tiny, frail 8-month-old baby. She smiled and giggled as we dressed her in her hospital gown. She smiled at the nurses and the anesthesiologist. She played with her toys as we waited to pass our baby into the capable hands of nurses and doctors. She smiled when we kissed her goodbye and wished her luck. I took a deep breath and off she went. I focused on her smile, her eyes and her determination. Willa gave me strength that morning.
This Mother’s Day, help us help SickKids moms. Give a Get Better Gift. www.getbettergifts.ca
