Beck was born with double strabismus–both of her eyes were crossed. I used to worry about how much she could see and what she was experiencing. She cried a lot, so I was always trying to comfort her. I would hold her close to me.
When she had her surgery, I had to wait with her in a room before she went into surgery. I was worried, but I tried to remain calm. The nurse came into the room, and I handed her over.
The surgery went well. Eventually, she had to wear glasses for a few years. She loved her glasses. She picked them out because of the color.
In May, when I walked Beck to the surgery room, I had a flashback to this time when she was two. I was handing my baby over.
Before she went into the surgery room, when we were alone, and I was saying my final “good-bye”, I pulled out my hair and tried to mix it with her hair. The thought of her going into surgery alone tormented me. I wanted to go with her, and all I could do was this.
Maybe when you see Beck, you see a grown woman. When I see her, I see my baby.