I miss them already

Manny has club feet.  I doubt I've mentioned it.  It's pretty low on the priority list.  But now that he has such mobility we weren't sure he would ever have ... we needed to address it. 

Right now, he would not be able to put any pressure on his feet.  No exersaucer, no jumpie, etc.  Eventually we would love for him to stand on those feet and even (dare we hope) to walk.  That's our ultimate hope. 

To do that, we need his feet going in the right direction.  Serial Casting is the best option.  (If we wait, it might be surgery.  But if we do it now, it's fairly benign.) 

Last night, I started getting a bit sentimental.  Strange. 

This morning I woke up downright sad.

I am going to miss those little feet. 

They're cute.  They're special.  They're unique. 

And we're changing him. 

As if to say that he is not "perfect".  That he is "less" than he could be.  And that strikes me really hard.  It sends me to strange thoughts and questions. 

I know that he will be better off if he can stand and walk.  I truly get that. 

But I think he's great ... just the way he is.  I'm his Mama. 

I've heard families go through similar when they decide to repair a cleft lip or remove an extra digit, etc.  They know they are doing the "right" thing but they are going to miss it too. 

I know this must sound awfully ridiculous to someone who hasn't faced it.  But this really was a hard thing emotionally for me today. 

And it got worse to see how much trauma it caused him.  (I didn't even get pictures of the "during" because he was crying so hard.)  His two least favorite things in the world are - people messing with his feet and laying on his tummy.  To do the serial casting, he had to do both.  For about an hour. 

He screamed, he cried, he begged.  For an hour, he never gave up the fight.  He didn't resist the therapists doing the procedure.  Barney didn't help.  Elmo didn't help.  Mama didn't help.  Nothing would make him stop crying.  My heart broke all the more. 

And just to think ... we get to do this at least 5 more times (once a week). 

I was a solid rock.  Telling him it would be over soon.  Telling him he was fine. 

But inside, my heart was breaking along with it. 

I'm his Mama and I'm supposed to protect him from pain.  Today I failed at one of my main jobs. 

And his little feet? 

I miss them already.