A Different Child

The common consensus seems to be that after Gracie has her ear tube surgery on Tuesday, she’ll be a different child. Her pediatrician, friends, acquaintances, her daycare teachers have all nodded their heads knowingly when we tell them she’s having the procedure done and say, with the knowledge of those who’ve been there, “You’ll see – after it’s over, she’ll be a different child.” The problem with that is, while I want Gracie to be a healthier child, I really don’t want her to be different. I’m totally in love with my baby the way she is, moods and temper tantrums included.

So, tomorrow I have to meet with the surgeon to discuss any questions I have about the surgery. I think I’m going to ask exactly how she’s going to be a different child. Is her equilibrium going to be so much better that when she toddles around the living room with her bowl of rainbow-colored goldfish she won’t hold the bowl at an angle that invariably makes the little snacks tumble to the floor? Will doing the surgery teach her about gravity and geometry so she’ll know that a 90 degree bowl angle is best for keeping treats in your bowl?

After the surgery, will her slightly slurred speech improve? Will her precious way of saying “elfhant” with a singsong nasal twang be replaced with the more correct but definitely not so endearing “elephant”? Will her balance be so improved once the fluid drains from her inner ears that she will be able to climb on the kitchen table and dance instead of just onto the chairs like she can now? Will her bumbling, Three Stooges way of walking be replaced with a Charm School gait where she could carry books on top of her head?

I know that this surgery is the right thing for my little baby. She’s suffered through more than her share of ear infections. She’s lost many nights of sleep when the pressure in her head from the fluid on her ears renders her sleepless. And the ENT says that her hearing, and thus her rudimentary speech, is being effected because she’s hears all language like she’s underwater. She’s been on more antibiotics than I care to think about.

I know that some people blame Gracie’s mood swings – one minute she’s a bundle of giggles, the next she’s on the floor in a puddle of tears, on her constant ear infections. They attribute part of her roller coaster emotions to being a toddler, but even among the toddler set, she’s known as something of a drama queen. To those people I’d like to say – have you ever met Gracie’s mother? Mercurial doesn’t even begin to describe me. They used to say when I was growing up – “if you don’t like the weather around here, wait fifteen minutes.” The same could be said for my moods.

Eventually, every parent comes to a crossroads where they have to make a decision about what is best for their child. We have to do things that we don’t want to do for the good of our babies. This is one of those times. On Tuesday, I have to hand my goofy, word-slurring, stumbling, giggly baby girl over to a surgeon who’s supposed to make her all better. I just hope that all better doesn’t mean all different…..