Last Saturday I was in Atlanta ready to celebrate the Tide’s upcoming defeat of the Noles when the right side of abdomen let out a sharp pain. It was hurting in a way I had never experienced before. I hated to wake up my friend I was staying with, so I called my mom. She and my dad were taking a trip to Mexico Beach, for the first time alone since my sister and I graduated. It was around 6:30 a.m. there, but she picked up ever so faithfully. I told her the problem, and she suggested going to an urgent care. I eventually woke up my friend because I couldn’t even make it to the car without yelps of pain. After a long morning at urgent care, we were sent to the ER in Atlanta, where I was diagnosed with gallstones. The surgeon wanted to wait on my white blood cell count to see if I needed surgery that day. I started crying. I just wanted my mom. I didn’t want surgery without her there. My friend and her mom were great, but they didn’t know my medical history and little things to help me feel better once it was over. It didn’t take but one call and my mom and dad were on their way to North Atlanta.

My mom doesn’t drive in Atlanta traffic. In my 22 years of life, she’s maybe done it once, but she did this for me. She drove me home, so I didn’t have to. We scheduled the surgery for Wednesday morning at 10 a.m. Wednesday morning arrived and we were told to be there at 7:45 a.m. My poor mom had been putting in her grades and preparing for progress reports the night before. We sat in the waiting room and waited and waited. My mom kept trying to put her grades in, but she couldn’t get the Internet access. Finally I was called back at 1 p.m. The surgery ended around 3 p.m., but they gave me too much sleeping medicine, so I was asleep in the hospital until 6:30 p.m.

Surgicare had closed, we were among the last people there. My mom had to just sit there and wait for me to wake up on little to no sleep at all. She didn’t complain or fuss all she said after was, “Can we get some Cracker Barrel?” I secretly don’t think she wanted Cracker Barrel, but she knew I could eat that, so that’s what she made herself want. That’s the kind of mom I want to be- the kind that waits all day at a Surgicare, just to say after can we get food? Knowing it’s not what you want, but it’s what your child needs. So, thanks to all the moms out there. We don’t always say it, but we love you and sometimes we just need you.