When our elder son was just a boy (not quite three), he had surgery. I remember the situation and how I dreaded having my son cut on, even though I had total confidence in his physician. Our son was so young, so precious and utterly trusting … yet I had this terrible sense of guilt that we (his parents) were engaging in a kind of mini-betrayal.
In the picture above, our boy is standing at the hospital desk, just prior to admission. He holds a lightweight suitcase with his right hand, a nerf football in his left and he’s wearing a smile and his favorite ball cap. The surgery occurred in early September, weeks before his end-of-the-month third birthday. Continue reading “Hurting To Heal”