On Friday Mary was absolutely perfect for her surgery. All of the nurses wanted to take her home. Just as last time, she did not cry at all when she woke up, and she was very sweet and polite to everyone at the hospital.
Abe took work off in the morning to accompany her to her surgery because no other children were allowed to come. I stayed home with the other kids and was so thankful when Abe called and said everything had gone perfectly.
The surgeon hypothesized that Mary’s ovary has been in the wrong place since birth. He said her ovary got confused and thought it was a testicle so it dropped down like a testicle does, only there was no space for it to drop so it got caught in a hernia. Interesting.
Meanwhile, at home, I had the scare of my life. I was putting down Clarissa, even though I knew I should have put Ammon down for his nap first. But he is so daunting to put down and Clarissa cries when I leave her, so I made the poor decision to let Ammon play downstairs while I put Clarissa down. He had never to that point played with knives so I didn’t think it would occur to him to do so while I was upstairs.
When I got downstairs, my heart almost stopped beating. I found Ammon sitting on top of the kitchen counter, one leg swinging happily over the edge, while in his hands were my sharp kitchen shears. In front of him was an apple that had been stabbed repeatedly with a very sharp paring knife. The knife was stuck in the apple, and its handle was covered in avocado. Apparently Ammon had smashed a bunch of avocados in between stabbing the apple with a knife.
When he saw me, Ammon immediately got a guilty look on his face. I could barely breathe and immediately grabbed all of the sharp objects, removed them, and stripped Ammon out of his avocado smeared clothes. Then I changed his diaper and examined every inch of his body to see if there were any cuts.
At that point, I started hyperventilating and Ammon’s lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. He felt remorse or guilt or something abnormal, which was sort of comforting, I guess.
After I put him down for his nap, I crawled into bed and covered my head with the blankets. I felt like the worst mom in the world and I had trouble catching my breath.
Once I got myself under control, I remembered that in the morning I had prayed and asked God to show me His hand today. It occurred to me that the fact that Ammon had not fallen off the counter and stabbed himself was a miracle, and that the fact that he had no cuts whatsoever was even just as miraculous. God showed me twice today that my family is in His protective hands. Mary’s surgery went perfectly and Ammon is unharmed. I feel comforted knowing God is looking after us.
At the same time, I have learned that I can’t take my eyes off of Ammon while he is awake. That is extremely depressing and logistically tricky, especially since Ammon is hyperactive and Clarissa needs me to be still and nurse her so much.
This is a hard stage of motherhood.