Thursday, May 30, 2013

Repost: Being a parent means being a champion worrier

I've contributed to the Orlando Sentinel's Moms at Work blog since 2010. The blog is changing content management systems and my old posts will no longer be available to the public, so I'm reposting them here, in the order that they were originally posted.

Nov. 2, 2011

Next week, I have to put my daughter's life in the hands of people I don't know very well.

She'll be having what a specialist has told me is "minor surgery," with a full-recovery time that can be measured in hours.

I've been informed that the procedure is routine, but -- and you can call me crazy about this -- I don't consider anything involving lasers, anesthesia and my toddler to be "minor" or "routine."

And so it comes to this: I'm scared. This is the first real thing in her short life that has actually frightened me (well, except for the time she and my husband were in a car accident nearly a year ago).

If this procedure hadn't come recommended by two doctors, who said it would improve her life significantly, my husband and I wouldn't be subjecting her to this.

I know her doctor performs these surgeries each week. I've spoken with other parents who say their children felt much better and were as good as new after similar procedures. I've also been informed that I should refrain from threatening the life of the anesthesiologist or bursting into tears while telling the doctors that I want them to treat her with the same care they'd use for their own children.

I know rationally that I should ratchet down my nervousness, but that's just not going to happen right now.

She's so young (yes, children younger than she have had the procedure)! She's so small (ditto)!

She's my only baby.

I worry. I'm a parent. It's what I do.

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