February is CHD awareness month. For those of you who have healthy heart children and do not understand why so many of us heart moms post so much about our miracle babies, just try to imagine what we are going through for just a second.
Our babies have had their chest cut open, their sternum cracked in half, and their heart stopped for hours on end while surgeons try to correct their walnut sized hearts.
Every second that they are in surgery, we are shedding tears or fighting them back with all our might. When they are finally done, they come back to the intensive care room with a machine breathing for them and tubes coming out of every place the doctor's could possibly find to stick one - IVs, ET tubes, NG tubes, chest tubes, art lines, pacing wires, catheters, etc. They can't talk, cry, or even move.
You are helpless as you watch them lay there looking so pitiful. You stare at the pumps and machines, overwhelmed at everything they have going to keep your baby alive. As he (or she) starts to wake up, they moan and cry in pain. They can't move, talk, or express what they are feeling. As a parent, you just want to scoop them up and say that everything will be OK. But the fact is that you can barely even touch them, let alone hold them.
And how can you tell them that everything is going to be OK when you simply don't know yourself?
It is one of the most helpless, awful moments of our lives as parents and only a portion of the battle.
I like to think that Sylvie is going to be such a stronger person through her experience of this, and you guys will also somehow grow out of this. I know all of us have been educated through your ordeal. So proud of Sylvie for being such a trooper.
When I read those words the other day, I got teary eyed remembering Kyla's surgery. It's the kind of emotional trauma that just never goes away and with the possibility of her needing another surgery in the future, having to live through it again is constantly on our minds. I've never felt time slow down before, but I did when they took her from my wife and I and walked away with Kyla struggling to scream for us over the sedatives effects, leaving us in the hall to sob in each other's arms.
Thanks for being a warrior for Sylvie, and all CHD kids, Lisa.
Jonathan Brady wrote:
When I read those words the other day, I got teary eyed remembering Kyla's surgery. It's the kind of emotional trauma that just never goes away and with the possibility of her needing another surgery in the future, having to live through it again is constantly on our minds. I've never felt time slow down before, but I did when they took her from my wife and I and walked away with Kyla struggling to scream for us over the sedatives effects, leaving us in the hall to sob in each other's arms.
Thanks for being a warrior for Sylvie, and all CHD kids, Lisa....Show more →
It really never does go away. Handing Sylvie off to the anesthesiologist was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Sylvie has the possibility of another surgery looming too so I understand where you are coming from with that also.
Lisa_Holloway wrote:
You are helpless as you watch them lay there looking so pitiful. You stare at the pumps and machines, overwhelmed at everything they have going to keep your baby alive. As he (or she) starts to wake up, they moan and cry in pain. They can't move, talk, or express what they are feeling. As a parent, you just want to scoop them up and say that everything will be OK. But the fact is that you can barely even touch them, let alone hold them.
What a nightmare. I'm so glad your family made it past this, and that your little girl is healed. I don't know that there is anything that can cause parents to treasure their daughters (or sons) more than we already do, but if there were, this kind of experience might be it.
That is a most remarkable photo, Lisa. I hope you can take some small comfort knowing that my children and grandchildren (and us) contribute to the American Heart Association every year. Our hearts go out to you...