Todd is out of town and Ben had his surgery scheduled for today.
As a preemie, he was not circumcised at birth. We have pushed it back twice now and just feel it is time.
I know circumcision is a personal and controversial decision.
My husband had a strong opinion on the subject, and I actually did too.
I know much of the Old Testament is dated, but I just don't think God would have men randomly cut themselves there if there wasn't some benefit from doing it.
We have circumcised all of our boys.
Obviously, Ben is the oldest and most difficult. His surgery required general anesthesia.
I just KNEW that he'd be a bit of a beast coming out of surgery. A couple of my kids had their tonsils removed and I seem to remember some gnashing and wailing.
Ben went to sleep angelically.
He drove a car-stroller into the operating room and laid on the bed happily while they put sleepy gas in a mask for him to breathe.
Sweet, sweet boy.
But oh, he woke up a BEAST!!
I could hear him from the hallway.
They called me back quickly and he was mad.
He did not want the pulse-ox on his toe, the cords on his belly, the IV in his hand.
He was loopy (they gave him twice the drugs they normally give) and ticked off.
I'm certain there was some pain mixed in with his emotion, but he sounded mad not sad.
I'm a weird mom who really appreciates the passion in my children (most of the time). Ben's attitude made me smile. He was assaulted as he slept, in a way, and he was not happy about it. Oh, he was mad and not easily distracted (and I'm good at distraction).
This boy of mine is alive today because he has a fighting spirit. (Those poor kids awaiting surgery who got to hear a bit of Ben's fighting spirit.)
For some reason, the nurse who was helping us asked if Ben was a twin.
I went to say no, but remembered, "Yes, he was a twin. I lost his brother (I just know it was a boy) but he held on."
Ben fought for over an hour in the recovery room, he cried off and on the whole way home, and I rocked him (he's a tummy sleeper so sleeping is a bit hard) while he napped. Tears came to my eyes at times with genuine gratitude and admiration for his strength. I hate that he is ever in pain, but I love his grit.
I love strong-willed children. I love them. My children are Captains not followers. I love that. Ben is 17 months old, with an even older, wiser soul.
I love busy, smart children.
I am SO grateful to be alive. To be HIS mother.
I'm so grateful that I have older boys who have taught me it's ok to laugh at these tantrums because he will grow out of them. You can be strong and kind, brave and good.
I have a feeling the next couple of days will be fun, for both of us.
I adore this last little boy of mine.
Don't you love being a mother?
Don't you love feeling the strength of your children's passion?
Ha! Oh Ben-- he's a big Spirit.
I really do like them big and spunky.
Life (even with a sore diaper and a cranky fella) is good!!
Do you have a feisty kid (or three)?
Aren't they fun?!!
(You may have to wait a few years for the stories to gain their humor...)