When did I get voted "the mom"?

When I was growing up and something tough needed to get done, my mom just did it. We would always tell her, "that's why we voted you "the mom."
This morning I packed little Finn up and headed to the best children's hospital in Denver for a small surgery. I have never had any of my kids need care on this professional level. I had been nervous for this day since Dr. Steitz told me he would need this when he was only a few days old, and now the day had come.
Finn and I had a good two and a half hours in our pre-op room waiting for all the parties to arrive. He was happy and inquisitive about everything and everyone in the room. Once the nurses left and the small room had been explored, it was nap time with mom until the doctor came. Because he is not a year old, I was not allowed to go back with him to the OR but the surgical nurse was nice enough and he even carried Finn down instead of wheeling him to make him feel more comfortable.
Then the waiting began. I started my "time killing" plan by going down to get some breakfast and stopping by the gift shop to get Finn a Teddy bear for being so brave (or was it something for me to cuddle while I waited impatiently?).

Back up in the waiting area with my breakfast, iphone, and 45 minutes down I thought I was doing pretty good. Then I heard it. It made my heart stop for a moment. "Finn's mom? You have a call from the OR." I actually did not want to take the phone from her, as if that would make the news I heard any better? Turns out they just had a hard time putting an iv in and they were just now starting the procedure. Great. I had used up all my "time killing" field trips.

The waiting room in a pediatric surgical unit has got to be one of the worst places to be. I don't really want to ever go again. Every time the door opened, we all looked up in hopes that it would be our doctor's face. Everyone is on edge and we are all in the same boat. Luck for us, all the workers at the hospital get why we are there and are really nice about our nervousness. I did okay for an hour and a half and then it all hit me.
Why were they not out yet?
Why have I not heard?
The panic attack increased and it had grown so slowly that I hadn't realized what was going on. My chest was tightening and I was really having trouble breathing. It took about 15 minutes, a walk to get water and lifesavers, a trip to the bathroom to tell myself I was now voted in as "the mom" and I better pull it together. That was enough to at least keep me breathing and to stop me from bursting into tears as soon as I saw the doctor.
Finally, the doctor came out and reassured me that Finn was fine and we talked about the recovery. After what felt like forever, the receptionist looked at me and said, "would you like to go back and see Dylan now?" I wanted to say, "if it gets me closer to Finn then yes!"
More waiting.
Once it was my turn to go back, I could not move fast enough. I was literally dropping my stuff as I was collecting it. To be honest, I was ready to abandon all of it and just go. As I walked to the back I could hear crying, but quickly found out it was not Finn. He was still sleeping. He slept for a long time, waking only for the picture. His vitals were fine and they said they didn't need him to stay awake, they just needed him to eat. I made a bottle, popped it in, and they sent us on our way.

Now it's all about the spread sheet of the obnoxious number of meds/doses that he needs for the next 48 hours. That is a full time job by itself. I usually have both babies over night, but Neil was nice enough to take Ian for the next couple of nights while Finn needs me most. Here is to fast healing, low pain, and hopefully never sitting in that waiting room again.
I never knew how hard some of those "mom" moments were. Sorry, Mom.