She's a Pro

No, not in the major leagues(although with the strength and the spirit my youngest daughter was given she and her big brother could be drafted together and it wouldn't surprise us one little bit!), but at this whole surgery, procedure, biopsy thing. Not something most would aspire to be a professional at, but our sweet Ashley has become one.

This morning she sat in pre-op without a tear, not even one being shed from her eyes. She read her lady bug book, signed about all the crying babies and little girls surrounding her, and held tightly to her baseball. She signed "sad", "crying", "babies" and pointed to the sweet girls that were across from her. Not until the very moment the surgery nurse showed up with cap, mask, and scrubs on did a tear fall from her eyes. She signed for her to go "bye-bye" and shook her head no as I passed her off to the nurse. Then the tears stopped and she snuggled close into her chest with her head nestled under her chin just as she does to me. As they walked away from me, our baby, I mean our little girl, the professional, waved a tiny bye-bye to me and then disappeared through the OR doors.

She is now intubated and sleeping as they begin. Its 11:25 and I just received that information from the surgical staff.

Oh what I wouldn't give to have our little girl be a professional at toddling, at running, at skipping, at chattering, at hopping, at talking, at jumping. Just be so good at any one of those things that her daddy and I could sit back this Easter weekend and watch as she ran through the grass collecting Easter eggs or picking flowers. Or to have the privilege of listening to her chatter on and on about her basket, the chocolate, the bunny, or the surprises she found inside of it. To see her eyes light up as she came running out of her Sunday School classroom and presented us with a picture of an empty tomb, or of a shining Jesus that she had colored.

My little pro will wake up in an hour, eyes groggy, pony tail tussled, and will reach her tiny hands up toward me. When I pick her up she probably won't shed a single tear. She'll snuggle tightly into my chest and nestle her head under my chin. Then she'll point to the door and wave bye-bye letting me she did her job and now its time for me to take her back to her home. You know the one, the little yellow house where all those inside love her like no other and celebrate each and every moment of her life. That's the place. The place she'll want to go back to once she wakes up.

Guess what? I'll be wanting to back there too.

Here's hoping for NO phone calls to come our way the rest of the week. NO phone calls means she's fine and were going no where. NO phone calls mean she'll be celebrating the resurrection of Jesus with her big brother and big sister this Sunday in Texas. NO phone calls will mean her daddy and I can breathe a big sigh of relief and whisper our thanksgiving to the Father yet again.