It was Tuesday, October 10, 2006. Our arrival back at the hospital that we had been staying at the last couple weeks was bitter sweet.
My stomach was in knots and my head was spinning as we rushed down the never ending skywalk to the elevators that would take us up to the PICU.
I tried to control my trembling hand as I pushed the buzzer to announce our son was in room five, hoping that he had a more restful night than I did.
The automatic doors opened as I prayed that the ventilater was able to keep his fevers at bay and his heartrate below 200.
Turning the corner to his room, my legs were weak and I was sure I would collapse at any moment.
"Be strong, he needs you." I thought to myself looking through the glass doors at my miraculous baby boy who had just turned three months old the day before. He was so tiny, yet so brave. He was so fragile, yet so strong.
I hesitantly looked up at the monitor to read the numbers that had fluctuated so dramatically over the last couple of days. Numbers that most people wouldn't know what to make of. However, I knew all too well what they meant.
I was in a daze as I put on the yellow gown, white mask, latex gloves, and blue hat. Anxiously I slid the glass doors open and bent down close to his crib so he could see me, "Mommy's here baby, it's going to be okay now, mommy's here".
I was going through the motions. The same motions I had been going through for the past couple weeks since finding out my baby was in severe heart failure and would need the AVSD repair done sooner than originally expected to save his life. A surgery that had been postponed twice already due to extremely high fevers that no one could explain.
Not a day goes by that I don't think about all the children, families, doctors and nurses at Children's Hospital of Wisconsin as I know all too well the miracles that are performed there daily. I can't express enough gratitude to Dr. Tweddle and the entire surgery team who saved my baby's life two years ago today. God Bless You All!
Fear and Faith
4 hours ago