Yesterday, I found out that my son is due to have another surgery. I started counting and this will be his fifth actual surgery but if I count the times he’s been under anesthesia for various tests and procedures as well, I think we are around 15 or more.
I sat yesterday in the doctor’s office listening to the plan she had for him. And I realized I have all these years had a split personality. One part of me, the rational part that has to make these decisions, understands, accepts, agrees, sees the need, the hope for success and signs the papers. And part of me, the part that was born in 1999 is sitting somewhere in the background of my mind weeping. This part of me would have long ago bundled up my son and run away from the needles and the scalpels and the pain. But this part of me stays hidden for the sake of him. The rip in my heart is caused by these two people warring inside of me.
I know I must let go and do what is best for him – always with my eye on who he will want to be when he is my age – and not what is best for me. But I do not want to cause him any more pain. He has had enough.
Ultimately the fight settles on the hope I have in the Lord and what He has planned. Beyond the surgeon’s hand, beyond the scars and the pain. These two parts of me, the rational and irrational tumble together at the feet of the Creator. I do not understand why but there is comfort in knowing that He does.
And once again, I will pry my selfish short-sighted fist open and let go. I will give my son over to the One who made him. And pray that He will, as He has each time, give him back.
