When your baby is scheduled for g-tube surgery, it doesn’t matter how “simple” they say it is — it’s still scary. The words surgery and baby just don’t belong in the same sentence.

B resting his hand on my chest after surgery

I knew in my head it was a quick, safe procedure — my dad, who was an OR nurse for over twenty years, reminded me of that again and again. But my heart still ached. My baby needed surgery. He needed it to thrive — and as a mom, that’s all I want: for him to grow strong and healthy.

Prayer is what helped my spirit surrender to the Lord’s plan. This was what B needed to be the healthiest he could be. When I met with the surgeon, he was wonderful — patient, gentle, and willing to answer all of our questions. If your little one is facing a g-tube placement surgery, don’t be afraid to ask questions, voice concerns, and advocate for your child. It’s scary, but having the information you need truly helps calm your heart.

The morning of surgery, my biggest struggle was knowing they would take him back awake. I wanted to hold him as he drifted off, to be there to comfort him — but that’s a liability, so parents can’t be in the room when anesthesia begins. They reassured me that he would be awake for less than a minute before the medicine worked.

The big day came. At 3 a.m. I had to stop nursing him, and by 5:30 we were at the hospital. We tried to keep him busy and happy — he’s a comfort nurser, so the distraction helped since he couldn’t eat before surgery. The nurses were wonderful. Once we checked in, B and I walked the halls to keep him smiling. I counted 55 bears painted on the walls, 12 cabinets, and saw that someone with the initials “JT” had restocked the rooms the day before. Little details that now feel etched into my memory.

We ran into the surgeon and anesthesiologist; both reassured us again before it was time. B was cheerful when the nurse took him, which eased my heart — but I still cried. No matter how prepared you are, watching your baby go is never easy.

My husband and I went downstairs for a donut and tea at the hospital café, then found a quiet corner to wait. A dear friend had given me a set of Bible verse cards, and I spent that time highlighting them in my journaling Bible. It helped to have a small, calm task to focus on — something gentle for my hands to do while my heart waited.

About 30 minutes later, the surgeon came to find us. Everything had gone beautifully. By the grace of God, they had also found a small hernia and were able to fix it during surgery. Relief flooded me.

When we went back, B was still groggy and fussy. I held him close and rocked him for an hour and a half before we looked at his new button and took vitals. The nurses were incredibly kind — patient, attentive, and reassuring. They answered all my questions, and the hospital g-tube care videos they shared helped me gain confidence that I could handle this new part of our journey. (I’ll link their YouTube channel here because it’s such a helpful resource.)

We spent the rest of the day doing his first couple of feeds—slow and small at first, slowly building as the hours went by. He threw up after the largest one, but even still, we got the okay to come home. I was so, so happy (those hospital beds are not comfortable!).

Bryton, P, and F came to pick me and B up. He slept the whole hour home, peaceful and still. When we walked through our front door, it was almost as if he had become a newborn again—needing to be close, craving comfort. I didn’t do much that first night except hold him on the couch and just be there.

If you’re preparing for G-tube surgery, plan for those first five days to be slow. Don’t make plans. Your baby will need rest—and you will too. B was still sore, slept poorly, and each feed took about an hour. At six feeds a day, it was exhausting. I was so, so, so tired.

Adjusting to this new normal takes time. It’s hard. It’s draining. But oh, mama, it’s so worth it. To see your baby thrive—to know they are finally getting what they need—that is the deepest relief.

B in the cutest hospital gown waiting for surgery

Here’s what I’d tell any mom walking this same road:

You can do this.
Take it one moment at a time—it doesn’t have to all happen at once.
Life goes on. You’ll find your rhythm again.
It’s not as overwhelming as it feels right now. You’ll become a pro before you know it.
God is with you. Truly. Lean on Him in these days.
Time brings healing—to your baby and to your confidence.
Each day gets a little easier. Give yourself grace.

Because you’re doing holy work, mama. The kind that doesn’t look glamorous, but that Heaven sees. And that love—the love that sits beside hospital beds and learns new routines—that’s what will carry you through.

Those early days after surgery are slow and tender — full of learning curves and small victories. These days will stretch your heart and steady your faith. It’s the start of something new: a new rhythm, a new normal, a new routine. You’re not alone in this, mama. Let’s learn to live with the tube together — through the daily care, the challenges, the wins, and the unexpected peace that follows.

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