After raising six children without facing any serious illness or accident, I was stunned when, on my youngest daughter’s second birthday, I was admitted to the hospital with gallstones. The next day I had major open surgery to remove my gallbladder and common bile duct stones. To further complicate the situation, I had always followed the World Health Organization’s recommendation to breastfeed until the age of two, so my daughter was still breastfeeding. Not only had her mother suddenly disappeared before we could even cut her birthday cake, but she was suddenly going to be weaned. She had been talking to him about giving up milk when she was two years old, but neither she nor I realized how true those words would be.
Despite the pain associated with my condition, I also faced the emotional pain of being separated from my young daughter and husband. Complicating the situation further was my irrational and overwhelming fear, not of surgery but of being put to sleep. Keep in mind that I had three previous C-sections, so the prospect of the actual surgery meant nothing to me, but I had been awake during those surgeries. I knew from studying health education and seeing too much of the ER what that entailed and my deepest fear was not waking up.
I thought of my husband, the perfect man for me that I had waited almost forty years to find. I thought of my beautiful girl; what it would be like for her to grow up without a mother. Would she remember me? I thought too much about my older children. Although they were almost adults, they still needed me. The hours leading up to surgery were anxious and no amount of kindness, understanding, and empathy from my nurses, doctors, and family really helped. However, waking up was one of the happiest moments of my life, apart from the birth of my children.
When my husband brought my daughter to visit me in the hospital two days later, I held back tears. She refused to come closer; frightened by the tube coming out of my body. For over an hour she clung to him tightly while I coaxed, begged and bribed her to sit next to me; all was in vain. Finally, as they were leaving, her father made her lean over and give Mom a kiss. When they left, the tears she had been holding back flowed freely. I made my family useless and somehow I failed.
Even once I got back home, my daughter spent days avoiding my boo as she called it. Even though he was under strict orders not to pick her up for the next two months, he longed to just hold her. Finally, I caught her asleep and held her for the almost two hours she slept. I watched her peaceful little face as she slept. I was surprised that we had both survived the five days of separation; the first in his young life. I was also in awe of my wonderful husband, who in that short space of time took my baby and transformed her into a little girl. He had weaned her from her breast. He had trained her in her bed and most amazing of all without any psychological damage. He continued to be her mostly lovable but sometimes horrible baby that I had left behind. During the first few days that I was home, he began to be less afraid of my tubes and boos. She would come and sit next to me while I read her books. I was still aware of her healing wound, but she no longer terrified me. I was once again her mom and she was once again my baby.
The following weeks were difficult. I carry the curse of many mothers: perfectionism. Sometimes it drove me crazy to see the older kids trying to do the chores that had been my domain. They never seemed to do it the way I would have. They always had to be asked several times before the job was finished. The final product was never as good as if I had made it myself. But it would be weeks before I could do it myself.
On the other hand, the experience taught me many valuable lessons about this life that I have and sometimes take for granted. He reaffirmed once again that I was a truly extraordinary man. My baby grew up, but in the end we were able to stay as close as before. The older children came up to the plate and did their part: if only for a little while. In the end, I have learned the value of my life and my family. Now I am more careful with what I eat, more aware of my health and little by little I am learning to ask for the help that we all need.
If you or someone you know is facing an accident or sudden illness that takes you away from your babies or toddlers, here are some tips for surviving:
- Ask for the help you need during this time. Hospital staff can often make accommodations for you and your family. Friends and family are more than willing to help, but often don’t know exactly what to do.
- Make sure your child also has the support they need to make this difficult transition. It is very likely that this task will fall to your partner, mother or other close relative. But whoever he is, it’s important that your child is surrounded by the people and things that are most familiar to him. Remember to allow them to have what comforts them most. Few would recommend allowing a young child to fall asleep in front of the television; even quality children’s programming like Wiggles, but this was what my daughter found most comforting. You can always break these clothes out later. But in a highly stressful situation like the apparent sudden disappearance of a mother; scheduling, harshness, and letting them cry only makes the transition more traumatic for the child.
- Support the followers too. It’s not easy being the caretaker of a child who has suddenly lost the comfort of his mother. The partner or other family member facing this stress needs understanding and support just as much as the mother and child. Whatever form it takes, the most important thing is that they know that their contribution is appreciated.
- Prepare for the first visit with your child. The worst part of the situation may be the first time your child visits the hospital. We miss our children terribly, but what we are not prepared for is that the child may be afraid of the bandages, IVs, or bags after surgery or maybe even mad at her for leaving. It may be difficult for you to let go of your own pain and disappointment in such a reaction, but it is important that your child is not left more traumatized than necessary. If this happens, the best and only support is an empathetic listener and perhaps a solid shoulder to cry on.
- The greatest danger may be depression or a deep sense of failure. Remember that you are not only missing your child and loved ones, but you are also recovering from an illness or surgery. Even once you return home, it will likely be several weeks before you can return to the normal routine of motherhood. You may not even be able to lift your child for six to eight weeks. But it’s also important that you follow your doctor’s instructions to the letter if you want to make a full recovery and return to your family.
- If your illness meant you also had to suddenly wean your breastfeeding child, then keep your options open. This means carefully considering what your wishes are. For us, we had already decided to wean, but not like this. But for mothers facing difficult situations such as illness or surgery, it is important to realize that it is possible if they wish to continue this wonderful breastfeeding relationship. You may need the support of trained lactation consultants, such as those available through your local La Leche League or even a certified lactation consultant. But if you want to continue to breastfeed, chances are you can.
