Embrace the G Tube Like a Pro: Why Fear Is Your Biggest Enemy
In Disney’s Luca, there’s a young sea monster named Luca who’s lived his entire life beneath the waves, surrounded by the familiar safety of the ocean. From the time he was little, he was told terrifying stories about the “land monsters”—humans who would hunt him down and destroy him simply for being who he is. The fear was so ingrained that the thought of venturing to the surface made his heart race with dread. But one day, driven by curiosity and a longing for something more, Luca faces his fear and steps onto the shore. What he finds changes his life forever: not monsters, but friends—kind, adventurous souls who welcome him with open arms. He has the most beautiful, life-changing experiences, racing through sunlit streets, tasting gelato, and dreaming under the stars. In the end, Luca realizes the land isn’t the terrifying place he’d been taught to fear. It’s a place of joy, connection, and a new home he never wants to leave. If he hadn’t confronted his fear, he would have missed out on the best parts of his life.
I love the saying a friend of mine often shares: “Fear is a lake a mile wide but an inch deep.” It looks vast and overwhelming, but once you step into it, you realize it’s not as deep as you thought. As G-tube moms, we know this feeling all too well—especially in the beginning, when the G-tube feels like a monster of its own. I faced this fear head-on with my daughter, Millie, and it taught me a lesson I’ll carry with me always.
When Millie first got her G-tube, I was paralyzed by fear. The doctors showed me how to clean the site, how to attach the extension, how to give her feeds, but every time I looked at that small tube protruding from her tiny stomach, my hands would tremble. What if I hurt her? What if I dislodged it? What if I did something wrong and made her sick—or worse? I’d hover over her crib, watching her sleep, the baby monitor’s soft glow illuminating her peaceful face, but inside, I was a wreck. I was so afraid of touching the G-tube that I’d avoid it as much as I could, only doing the bare minimum to keep her fed and clean. I’d ask my husband to help with feeds, or I’d call the nurse for the smallest things, too scared to trust myself. I felt like Luca, staring at the surface of the water, convinced that the “land monsters” of the G-tube world would destroy me if I got too close
But that fear started to take a toll—not just on me, but on Millie. One day, I noticed the skin around her G-tube site was red and irritated, a faint rash creeping across her delicate belly. The nurse on the phone was gentle but firm: “You need to clean the site more thoroughly, every day, to prevent infection.” My heart sank. I’d been so afraid of touching the area that I hadn’t been cleaning it properly, and now my baby was paying the price. I felt like the worst mom in the world, tears streaming down my face as I held Millie close, whispering apologies into her soft hair. I knew I couldn’t let fear control me anymore. It was a lake a mile wide, but I had to step into it—I had to find out how deep it really was.
So, the next morning, I took a deep breath and decided to face the monster head-on. I gathered my supplies—mild soap, warm water, a soft cloth—and sat down with Millie on my lap, her curious eyes watching me as I worked. My hands shook as I gently cleaned around the G-tube site, carefully lifting the tube to get every spot, my heart pounding with every movement. I kept waiting for something to go wrong—for Millie to cry out in pain, for the tube to come loose—but nothing happened. She just cooed softly, her tiny hand resting on mine, as if to say, “You’ve got this, Mom.” When I was done, the redness around her site already looked better, and I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. The lake wasn’t as deep as I’d feared—it was only an inch, and I’d waded through it.
From that day on, I made a promise to myself: I wouldn’t let fear stop me from caring for Millie the way she deserved. I started handling the G-tube with confidence—cleaning the site daily, attaching the extension for feeds, even venting her stomach before meals. What once felt like a terrifying monster became just another part of our routine, as familiar as changing her diaper or singing her to sleep. And the more I embraced it, the more I realized I could do this—I could be the mom Millie needed, not just a scared bystander. That small act of courage opened the door to a new kind of closeness with my daughter, one where I wasn’t afraid to care for her fully, fearlessly.
I’m sharing this with you because I know how scary the G-tube can feel, especially in the beginning. It’s normal to worry—you love your child so much, and the stakes feel so high. But that fear will keep tormenting you until you confront it, just like Luca had to step onto the land to discover the beauty waiting for him. The G-tube isn’t the monster you think it is. It’s a tool, a lifeline, and you’re more capable of handling it than you realize. So take that first step—clean the site, attach the extension, give the feed—and watch the fear melt away. You’ll find that you can do this, and you’ll build a confidence that makes every day with your child a little brighter. Step into the lake, mama. It’s only an inch deep, and on the other side, you’ll discover you’re stronger than you ever knew.