My son has taught me like no other — bravery, resilience, and understanding.
A few weeks ago, we told him he’d be going with Mom and Dad to the doctor and spending the night. We explained that the doctor would have a “magic wand” to help him breathe and hear better, and that afterward, he’d wake up next to his beloved Mighty Pup.
We walked into the operating theatre together. Bright lights, a cold room, doctors everywhere — a scene I knew well from my own surgeries. But for him, it was a first. And yet, he was calm. He listened. He followed instructions. He lay down, allowed them to place the mask over his face, and gently closed his eyes.
We waited outside. The doctor prepared us for what usually happens: children waking from anesthesia in tears, confused, and in pain. Shaking, some shouts and discomfort. Nothing to blame of course
We entered, he was still sleeping. Then we walked to the ward taking him together with the nurse while he continued his rest. An hour later, he woke up in the room. In silence. No tears. No panic. Just a quiet gaze, looking for us. He smiled. He was fine. He asked us to stay close, to hold his hand and he rested again.
When he woke the second time, his spark was back — making us laugh, playing magic tricks, asking for drinks and food (even the ones he wasn’t allowed yet). Instead of whining for not eating what he wanted, he was understanding. (Not saying this also happens at home) Hours later, he asked to go home. When the nurse said no, they gave him medicine instead and he stayed silent. He took it without a fuss and understood.
Dad had left to be with our daughter at home. And a while after that, he asked for his sister and dad. We called them, she asked him to go home. Although he wanted that badly, he explained to her: I can’t, the nurse says I must sleep here. I will go tomorrow…
The day was getting to an end for him, you could start to see it in his eyes. So I suggested a shower. He agreed. With laughter and splashes among what we could do in a hospital bathroom. We read a book, as we always do. Then he looked at me and said, “Mom, I want to sleep. I’m okay, Mommy, I’m just tired.” We dimmed the lights. He drifted off.
I sat beside him and cried. Not out of sadness — I don’t even know the exact word. I just couldn’t believe the day we had lived through.
Our boy. Our first child. Now three years old. Brave. Strong. Resilient.
When I’ve had surgery, I was nervous, shaking, crying, and full of questions. I couldn’t even bear to see the blood on my hand.
But him? He had his bandages changed twice, calmly closing his eyes while they cleaned the blood. He didn’t question, he understood. Family called him, he was ok to answer and said: “I’m at the doctor, I’m ok, but I can’t go home yet.”
Since the day he was born, he’s been teaching me. He gave me the bravery to launch TravelTod, the strength to bring him a sister just 15 months later, and now — on his surgery day — he’s given me yet more: bravery, understanding, resilience, serenity, patience, and so much more.
Never underestimate your toddler. Yes, they may have tantrums because they’re learning and figuring out the world. But they can also give us the most profound lessons in life.
Today, the pages turned. It wasn’t me reading him “Be Brave, Little One”, one of our favorite bedtime books. Today it was him telling me, with no need of words, “Be brave, Mommy.”
Love you little one.
Thank you. For everything.
For making me mom. And for letting me learn so much from you in this journey.