It’s been kind of a hard week so far. Emilia had a tooth pulled on Tuesday. She banged it several times, once on the side of my footboard, once on a bench outside the lemonade stand, and probably a lot of other times I can’t remember. She’s had a filling before and did so great with it but the idea of them wiggling out her tooth was very stressful for her. Of course, in true Emilia fashion, she rocked it. She sat still as they did it and watched Sponge Bob contentedly. She told me after that it was much scarier in her head. Once she was at the dentist it wasn’t so bad. She’s so wise, so brave and so small.
Today, as I was getting dressed, she walked into my room. I’ve tried to be very honest with my kids about this upcoming surgery and why it’s happening and all of that. She watched intently as I put on my bra.
“So, you’re having surgery. Or are you having stitches?”
“Both, baby. I’m having surgery and stitches. I’ll have stitches here,” I said and pointed to the underside of my breast, and up to the nipple which made her laugh, “and here.” I pointed to my belly then.
“So, they’re going to cut off your boobs and then put your belly there?”
“Yep, pretty cool.”
“Mama, why do you have to have surgery?”
“To make sure I don’t get sick.”
“Do I have to have surgery?”
“I don’t know. You might. We won’t know until you’re older.”
“But, I don’t want to have surgery.”
“I know, baby. I don’t want you to have to have surgery, either.”
Statistics say 2/4 of my kids are mutants. My feeling is that all 4 of them probably are. (please please please let my gut be incorrect in this instance) I definitely don’t regret having my kids. I love them so so so so much but it feels so heavy to know that I have probably passed on this mutation to at least 2 of them. To know that my tiny little five (and a half) year old is thinking about potentially needing surgery is so so so hard. I was blissfully unaware of my mutant status until less than a year ago and my poor babies have to face it head on. I’m SO glad that I know. I’m SO grateful to be able to be proactive and PREVIVE. It hurts so much to know that my babies will potentially have to do the same. I mean, it’s probably a good thing that 75% of my kids are boys and it’s just an elevated risk of breast cancer/prostate cancer and melanoma. But, Emilia. Damn.