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Five stages of undergoing surgery as a mum

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Recently I had to have a pretty routine hernia repair operation. However, it meant going under general anaesthetic and spending an afternoon and evening in hospital. It also meant facing my anxiety about one day not being there for my little boy. My rational brain knew nothing bad was going to happen, my irrational brain was convinced I wasn’t going to wake up again. Crazy, I know. But the last time I had anaesthetic was when I was having my baby 21 months ago and before that… well I’ve never even had it for a filling. So you can cut me a bit of
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slack.

It’s fair to say it was a bit of an emotional roller coaster so for anyone else having surgery any time soon, here are the five stages of undergoing an operation when you’re a mum…

1 – Surgery is booked: mum mode.
You run your surgeries on a Wednesday you say, Mr Consultant? Phew! That’s the one day in the week I don’t work. No need to arrange for time off. Oh, and it works perfectly for recovery too as Thursdays and Fridays are nursery days so the little one is out of the way. It’s meant to be. What’s that now? I can’t drive for

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a week or lift for four weeks? Right. Let me just change the date then so I can have surgery right before Christmas and make sure my other half and family are around for chauffeuring and babysitting duties. That’s childcare and work covered.

2 – The weeks leading up: stress.
Actually, do I have everything covered? What if I need to stay in? What if I can’t go home until after the toddler’s bed time so my other half can’t leave the house? Do I have everything tied up at work? Do I need to hand anything over in case I can’t log on and work from

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home? Shit. It’s Christmas and I’ve got no wrapping done, no cleaning done and I have no idea who I have or haven’t bought presents for. I won’t be able to do too much and I can’t flipping drive anywhere to get anything. This was bad planning.

3 – The day of the op: full blown panic.
I think I’ll take the little one to one of those indoor trampoline places so he’ll have a fun memory of me, should the worst happen. AKA I think I’ll spend a small fortune for 45 minutes of him watching other children bouncing, crying at the foam pit and

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eventually pointing out the bins to me and playing with the lockers. I’ll get cross, then feel guilty, then have a little cry in the car on the way home. This is followed by mentally writing a goodbye note to him, one to my other half and more to the rest of my family. Stopping myself from leaving my fiancé with a list of my passwords so he could get into all the relevant accounts if I didn’t make it. (I’ll remind you, this was a hernia repair operation. I never said I was a sane person.)

4 – Coming round: anger.
I saw the clock when I went into

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theatre – it was 3pm. I saw the clock when I came round – it was 3.40pm. I was expecting at least an hours’ worth of snoozing. I have a small child who wakes up at 5am three days out of five. I finally get a genuine reason to sleep in the day and the surgeon gives me 40 minutes?! FORTY MINUTES?! Come on now. This is bullshit.

5 – Recovery: bliss.
Oh. My. God. I’ve just eaten a meal while it’s still hot, without having to share with a small person. I’ve had two cups of tea, one after the other. TWO. The TV isn’t showing Fireman Sam or Sky Sports

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News. I’ve had a wee in peace. I’m utterly alone. And I’m sitting about in a bed, in my pants, with no one calling ”mama” or tugging at my (very fetching) hospital gown. Even better, I’ve been told I can’t lift for three to four weeks which means no bedtimes for a month. A MONTH! This is like an actual dream… *snuggles down into pillow with a third cuppa and Friends on loud.*
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- 22 Dec 17

Recently I had to have a pretty routine hernia repair operation. However, it meant going under general anaesthetic and spending an afternoon and evening in hospital. It also meant facing my anxiety about one day not being there for my little boy. My rational brain knew nothing bad was going to happen, my irrational brain was convinced I wasn’t going to wake up again. Crazy, I know. But the last time I had anaesthetic was when I was having my baby 21 months ago and before that… well I’ve never even had it for a filling. So you can cut me a bit of slack.

It’s fair to say it was a bit of an emotional roller coaster so for anyone else having surgery any time soon, here are the five stages of undergoing an operation when you’re a mum…

1 – Surgery is booked: mum mode.
You run your surgeries on a Wednesday you say, Mr Consultant? Phew! That’s the one day in the week I don’t work. No need to arrange for time off. Oh, and it works perfectly for recovery too as Thursdays and Fridays are nursery days so the little one is out of the way. It’s meant to be. What’s that now? I can’t drive for a week or lift for four weeks? Right. Let me just change the date then so I can have surgery right before Christmas and make sure my other half and family are around for chauffeuring and babysitting duties. That’s childcare and work covered.

2 – The weeks leading up: stress.
Actually, do I have everything covered? What if I need to stay in? What if I can’t go home until after the toddler’s bed time so my other half can’t leave the house? Do I have everything tied up at work? Do I need to hand anything over in case I can’t log on and work from home? Shit. It’s Christmas and I’ve got no wrapping done, no cleaning done and I have no idea who I have or haven’t bought presents for. I won’t be able to do too much and I can’t flipping drive anywhere to get anything. This was bad planning.

3 – The day of the op: full blown panic.
I think I’ll take the little one to one of those indoor trampoline places so he’ll have a fun memory of me, should the worst happen. AKA I think I’ll spend a small fortune for 45 minutes of him watching other children bouncing, crying at the foam pit and eventually pointing out the bins to me and playing with the lockers. I’ll get cross, then feel guilty, then have a little cry in the car on the way home. This is followed by mentally writing a goodbye note to him, one to my other half and more to the rest of my family. Stopping myself from leaving my fiancé with a list of my passwords so he could get into all the relevant accounts if I didn’t make it. (I’ll remind you, this was a hernia repair operation. I never said I was a sane person.)

4 – Coming round: anger.
I saw the clock when I went into theatre – it was 3pm. I saw the clock when I came round – it was 3.40pm. I was expecting at least an hours’ worth of snoozing. I have a small child who wakes up at 5am three days out of five. I finally get a genuine reason to sleep in the day and the surgeon gives me 40 minutes?! FORTY MINUTES?! Come on now. This is bullshit.

5 – Recovery: bliss.
Oh. My. God. I’ve just eaten a meal while it’s still hot, without having to share with a small person. I’ve had two cups of tea, one after the other. TWO. The TV isn’t showing Fireman Sam or Sky Sports News. I’ve had a wee in peace. I’m utterly alone. And I’m sitting about in a bed, in my pants, with no one calling “mama” or tugging at my (very fetching) hospital gown. Even better, I’ve been told I can’t lift for three to four weeks which means no bedtimes for a month. A MONTH! This is like an actual dream… *snuggles down into pillow with a third cuppa and Friends on loud.*

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Mum to one and step-mum to another, working and living in the Midlands. I used to write about other people, now I'm trying my hand at writing about myself. Pretty much only had a baby so I could dress someone up in a costume at least once a week...

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