Although I had a product review all ready to post, I decided to put that on hold in light on the recent ongoings at Casa Kelly. The biggest news here is that Alexander’s first surgery has been scheduled for this Monday morning, Aug 19th, at Comer. It’s likely to be mostly lip reconstruction with a little palate, the majority of inside work to be done in subsequent surgeries (probably 3 or 4 others a few months apart).

It feels a little odd to be preparing our little guy for surgery, considering that we can’t really reason with him about short term pain and discomfort for long-term gains. Similarly, he didn’t think to call our healthcare provider to begin the process for pre-certification of his surgery.   I feel strangely grateful to have gone through so many hospital stays myself, as I feel fairly prepared for logistics, and the surgical team was surprised when I called to ask about the pre-op instructions. “Normally, families don’t call to ask about the last-minute marching orders.” I politely said that I hated being tied to the phone the entire pre-op day waiting for the intake folks to call, which inevitably ended up in a game of phone-tag. So in short, we’re all set for Monday and will most likely just have one overnight stay.

So where does the title fit in? Well, as I mentioned in a previous post, Alexander’s surgery and repair will mean the End of the Pacifier (said in a deep, dramatic voice). It’s one thing to have a doctor tell you this, and it’s totally different to try and prepare your little kid for something they can’t fully understand. I still tell him every time he’s eating with the pacifier that next week, he won’t be able to use it; I know I’m saying it mostly (all) for my benefit, but it helps to vocalize those words considering the chaos that ensues.

Brian and I have developed a few “games” which involve asking for the pacifier or distracting him in order to help him realize he can swallow without it. Though he’s come to rely on it, we’ve witnessed firsthand that it’s not essential to his eating. It definitely makes it easier for him, and frankly, I can’t really blame him for using it. He found a way to make eating easier/possible, and so why not use it? The games have worked for small amounts of time, but this kid is smart. The original game of “please give me your pacifier” resulted with him trying to just graze our hand with it but hold on for dear life. Similarly, when we’ve tried with the spoon and no pacifier, he just does his best effort to knock the spoon out of our hands.

Well, today, Alexander’s mama busted out the tough love. I snipped the pacifier.

I started with a few small holes during “Elevensies” and worked my way up to a full hole during Teatime. I kept snipping off more and more, with dinner being a noticeable hole, and bedtime bottle looking pretty severe. He seemed a little confused around dinner time, but everything hit the fan tonight. The second he put the pacifier in his mouth, he let out a shrill cry and looked at me with an unmatched fear and fury. Something was different and wrong. So very wrong. Brian looked at me from the kitchen– we knew eventually that the next snip would be one too many, and this was it.

The good news is that Brian and my attempt to make him swallow on his own was successful– he drank his entire bottle in the usual time frame. The only big difference is that he was howling and turning red with rage this time. While it kills me to see our little guy unable to be soothed by something he’s depended on for so long, we know that if we can get him not using the pacifier now, post-surgery shock of no pacifier might be a bit easier. He’ll have (little) arm restraints when he’s post-op for at least a week that will keep him from bending him arms (ie putting his hands in his mouth or anywhere near his face), but I’m sure the anger of no pacifier will still be present.

Although we feel incredibly fortunate for the laid-back son finally asleep upstairs, we knew that having a child with medical needs would come with many challenges.  Tonight, all I kept thinking during the rage was “I’m not your friend, I’m your mom. Those are two completely different things.” I can only hope that one day in the distant future that Alexander will consider me a friend, but for today, I’m more than thrilled to be his mom.

And for now, we’ll take things one snip at a time.