Oliver's Tongue Tie Surgery.

We heard that we simply had to do it, that it would greatly improve Oliver's quality of life. I worked on it for a couple of months. Mom and Shane were with us. Oliver was missing the first two days of school.

The clinic had an amazing aquatic theme. The reception desk and nurses' station had clear, rippling waves. Sea creatures came out of the ceiling. Walls had ocean murals. Mom said that the theme was more for me than for Oliver!

Josh and I went back with Oliver. The liquid sedative was a fail, but the nurse managed a nasal spray. Oliver quickly got sluggish and silly.

Dr. M came to us quickly in the lobby. She said that the surgery went well, and she again emphasized the importance of the stretches. She looks like a child of fae or a Vulcan. And she takes her handiwork seriously.

Someone took Josh and me back. Oliver was trying to wake up but kept falling over on the bed. I asked the nurses to go over the stretch with me again. She brought over Dr. M! Embarrassing. Dr. M told me to sit in the recliner; she was going to perform the stretch on me. I said okay.

What she did was extremely painful, and my body was thinking flight. I said I did have a better sense of the stretch. Josh pointed out that I had blood in my teeth. How could I do that to Oliver?

Back home, Mom was talking about the stretching. As she spoke about it, I started swaying and tapping my nail on my teeth. She said, "Are you freaking out?" I was.

So Mom did it the first time. After Oliver cried and struggled (we all held him down), I cried on Josh. Mom came over and hugged me too. She said, "What feels heavy right now?" I liked that. "What's wrong?" would minimize the obvious. I told her I was afraid I was wrong to get the surgery, and now, I'd have to hurt him every day. But she said that watching him eat and move his tongue in his mouth made her change her mind--she did believe it was a good choice. That released a lot of my tension.

A few hours later, it was my turn. Everyone waited while I washed my hands and put on gloves. It was awful, but I did it. At least, I think I did it.

The next morning, we got a free check-up with Cynthia (faux name). She empathized the necessity of frequent stretches. I knew I was going to have to do a lot of it the stretches alone, no help.

Oliver went to school to Wednesday. I made noise until I heard Oliver's name on the radios--and suddenly, I met the principal, who was super supportive. We agreed that I'd use the med room about 10 a.m. each day.

The first day, he screamed and cried. The admin staff asked, "Is he going to do that every day?" Yep. On the second day, his lead teacher brought him to the office and held him in her lap, which helped. As soon as I started to leave, I heard, "Want Mama!" After what I'd just done, he wanted me. On Friday, we had the same arrangement, except that I'd brought some metallic vehicle stickers! He chose the ambulance, which seemed appropriate.

I can't express how horrible the stretches are. He bleeds sometimes. He usually wants a coping-strategy bath afterward. We have to do this every three hours for three weeks. I feel pretty traumatized. I just keep trying to convince myself that we did and are doing what's right for Oliver long-term.