To goal: drain the fluid impairing his hearing before it causes permanent damage and implant tubes, despite his ultra-small inner ear, for long term drainage.
The place: Children's National Hospital. Because they are the best and Addison gets only the best.
The time: Early, early, early. Like 5:30-departure-time early.
The players: The family. All 11 of us. Because even though dragging a two and a six year old out of their beds at 5:30 and making them behave in a waiting room on little sleep early in the morning is not my favorite thing to do it seemed important for us all to be there. Henry's team. His backup. His advocates. Sure, it made no difference to him but you know the saying, "begin as you mean to go"? Ten years from now when we aren't all living at home and have busier schedules and lives every one of us will bend over backward to be there for Henry. So why not now when it is easier than it will ever be for us to be in the stands, cheering him on?
We kissed and prayed over our big guy before he was taken by the very-capable-but-still-a-stranger-taking-our-boy nurse.
Back in pre-op, Henry charmed them all with his award winning smile. Have I ever mentioned how much this kids rocks hospital gowns?
Meanwhile in the waiting room, the waiting period commenced. I have scientifically proven a child waken at 5:00AM has an attention span of exactly 1 minute.
At last the surgeon came out and said the procedure was a success all around. The ultimate test will be when Addison goes back for another hearing test in 4-8 weeks.
A few minutes later Henry was back with the family. He was passed around, hugged and generally loved up on.
The hospital gave Addison a paper star for bravery. We hung it on the wall above his crib.
I couldn't be prouder.