A boy says goodbye to his adenoids and tonsils

The last few weeks I've been taking care of a 3 year old recovering from an adenoid and tonsillectomy for Severe Obstructive Sleep Apnea. What does that mean, you ask? Well, it means there was an obstruction preventing him from breathing properly while he slept. Tell me more, you say? Well, it means that for his entire life, he has lost oxygen while sleeping. With the sleep study we did, after advocating for one, we found that he was losing 30 minutes of oxygen every night. Right as he hit

On his way to buy cold foods like Jello

REM, he would effectively stop breathing every 18 seconds, for 11 seconds at a time. Did you tear up when you read that? I teared up when I heard the ENT specialist explain it to us. When my son was born at 34 weeks and 5 days, he had some breathing issues. I sat in the NICU and watched his breathing shift and his oxygen drop but it didn't dip enough to require oxygen or breathing treatments. In hindsight, I see the relation to those NICU moments when I stared at the monitor with confusion and I'm disappointed that the staff didn't realize what was going on. I was told it was likely a faulty monitor and that he was breathing fine, most of the time. MOST OF THE TIME. What the hell, dude. As a mom with a child who has delays, I've allowed a certain narrative to run my life with this boy. Was it something I ate? Not enough water? Did endless and exhaustive couponing take a toll on my pregnant body? We'll never know. But this, this little information, as it comes into frame, really angers me. I love this baby boy and just wish I could've done more to help him, in every way. He's been so angry for most of his life. In the beginning he was sweet. He nurse

like a beast and slept all day if you let him. We knew there could be a chance of some delay or cognitive issues because he showed up early but he always seemed okay. I will say, I did miss a dr. visit at 15 months because I was so sick with my third pregnancy. Maybe they would've caught something earlier. Maybe not. He always had a quiet and soft demeanor. I remember waking up with him at night and feeding him a cheese stick, a bottle of formula and a pb and j. The nightly meals eventually stopped but after a while we noticed he wasn't a very good sleeper. A few months ago my husband read an article on Yahoo.com. He sent it to me and then sent it again because I ignored him. This article changed our lives. It gave us a glimmer of hope after a year of hellish tantrums, issues with therapy (and lack thereof) and the inability to have our lives do anything more than revolve around him. I'm thankful that we read this article and to Melody Yazdani, thank you for writing a post that went viral, that became an article, that my husband forced me to read and is now the article we talk to everyone about. The article helped us to make an appointment and asked about a referral for a sleep study, just to see if there was something we missed. We had mentioned to his pediatrician that we didn't know what was going on at the back of his throat and she assured us that although he had enlarged tonsils they likely weren't an issue because they weren't kissing. That was a lie (say it to yourself in the Maury voice). So here we are. 2 weeks and 1 day, post surgery.

He's napping as I type frantically and wait for his sister to rouse. To be honest, he's been a wreck these couple of weeks and that means we have also been a wreck. But, God is good. The weeks leading up to the procedure were drenched in stress and anticipation. There was also the random surprise of potty training (thanks again Jesus!). The day of the surgery happened so quickly that we didn't even feel it. Then all of a sudden it was over. And now here we are on the other side and we made it through. The day of surgery he held up well for his noon operation. We were sure he'd be cranky and starving but he was distracted by Paw Patrol and dad being home and he wasn't a handful in the least. We had lots of staff come in our room and introduce themselves, explain their rolls, share what to expect and tell us how they would gingerly hold our hands through this process. I have to tell you, they really did. They were awesome.

Paper clock. Nothing wrong with a little hand holding.

The gave us a paper clock, syringes for medicine disbursement and a packet of paperwork. They explained how they could sedate him if needed and we considered it before putting him under but decided we would just prep him as best we could. As a crafty diversion, the nurses and the child life specialist blew bubbles in his face and whisked him away without either of us saying good bye. My husband and I went to eat at Potbelly's downstairs and ran in to the nurse when we were waiting for the elevator. "Oh, just so you know, he's out. He did great". She was referring to his anesthesia and we kind of just looked at each other puzzled. We had been waiting for less then 5 minutes. When we finished eating we were summoned and my husband ran into the Dr while I went potty. "He had the largest adenoids I have ever seen... except for 1 case we had recently. It gives me goosebumps thinking about how well he will be able to breathe now." My husband told me exactly what the Dr. said. He also mentioned how that blockage likely caused buildup in his sinus something or other and that he probably could never fully drain his sinuses. After that quick visit, we had a chance to see him in the ICU. Before we could get to him, we heard him wailing down the hall. We were nervous at what we'd see but based on the sound we knew he was a mess. He couldn't stop crying. It has to do with the anesthesia I think but even me getting into the bed along side him and trying to console him, offered little comfort. I had to leave to go pick up our other kids and knew my husband, whom is super dope, would be awesome at settling the babe down. Also, I couldn't stand to hear his scared cry. He sounded hoarse and seemed really out of it. His eyes seemed kind of glossed over. It was way too much for me to handle. I'd like to add that at this moment (and on my way to the vehicle my husband parked and gave horrible directions to) mom guilt had set in. I'm always at, like, 95% mom guilt when it comes to this boy because of his delays and various behavioral issues but dammit this day, I really wish I could've sucked it up and just stayed with him. But again, not really. For me, it's just one more thing I'm ducking out of to take care of other kids. There's always this weird imbalance that my kids suffer. Or maybe I suffer and they don't realize. Anyway, my kids were in excellent hands. Safe hands. Loving hands. Or at school and then brought home by a neighbor who is safe and loving because despite my leaving early enough, there was traffic to contend with and a light dusting of water across Chicago, which means nobody knew how to drive. I picked up kids, dropped off kids, drove across town, visited at the hospital and then went back to pick up kids, get them ready for bed and knocked out. The next morning I didn't have to visit. I just picked the kid and my husband up and heard he had done well but vomited once over night and was very whiny. The first night home felt like having a new born. The next night was easier. All of the nights were just making sure he would have his meds at the time they specified on the paper clock and giving him Slammers, yogurt drinks and soft bread to eat. Somewhere during the week we allowed things they said to stay away from, like pizza, but he was to the point of not eating and looked gaunt and I didn't really care if it hurt his throat. I was just happy he was eating. At around day 4 or 5 he started having "episodes" or night terrors to which, again, we felt like we had a newborn. They lasted for 10-15 minutes and happened multiple times a night. I would shush him to sleep and rub his head. Sometimes I'd ask what was wrong and he'd cry and say he was scared and say "no, no, no." It was scary for us. Was this our new reality? Was he really awake during anesthesia and did he remember and feel everything? Why did we do this?

Neither of us had much sleep for 2 weeks. I felt pretty sad for this boy. At least I had coffee...

Then, as fast as they came, they were gone. And I praise God for his mercy on our family because we were losing our strength to endure. He just had such a hard time. And now, he sleeps. It's the strangest thing for a child who never slept to finally sleep. And the snoring is completely gone. Our 7 year old, who resides on the top bunk of their bunk bed, mentioned in passing about Evan not snoring anymore. Very nonchalantly and with no idea about what those words meant to his tired and weary parents. "I didn't hear him snore last night. And he always snores". Out of the mouths of babes. What a joy and a f-ing relief. And I've had 2 full nights of sleep. I'm sure we'll see progress and expect little changes in personality or growth but for now, we're just happy he is sleeping. And he even sleeps in. Which again, so weird. Fun fact here, for the majority of his life when he would wake up, his nose would be stuffy. It isn't stuffy anymore. He had a slight cough this morning and a little dainty runny nose but considering that he was a booger king for most of his life, this is nothing. Amen.