The Forest

I'm a detail person. I need to know the plan. It's okay if the plan changes, but I want to know what happens next, and how it's going to happen.

This was my problem while Brooklyn was in the hospital. I just wanted someone to tell me exactly what to expect, what would come next and what to expect in the future. No one had a crystal ball. No one could give me the details I needed.

It was a daily struggle for me mentally and emotionally. Some days there was no change in her status, which was good. To me, a quite day was a good day. Then there were the days that never ended. I remember the first week I was alone. I was sitting in the big room (the room where post-op patients stay until they are stable... where Brooklyn spent forever) and the doctors were rounding. They discussed her status and spoke in codes. Parents are encouraged to stay for rounds, but I felt like they were talking about Brooklyn like I wasn't there. They didn't sugar coat a thing. I was heartbroken hearing them talk about my baby. It wasn't a good day for her. They were extremely concerned about a bleed on her brain, her swelling, and her high heart rate. Everything seemed to be going wrong. Later, her heart rate was erratic, jumping up to over 250 (no kidding there!), and the doctors swarmed around her. Tears automatically filled my eyes. I needed details. I needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay. Instead, her external pace maker had to kick in and regulate her heart. I was so scared. I'm sure I was a wreck.

This was at least a week or so before they were able to close her chest. They finally decided to close her chest on November 14th. That was 12 days after surgery. They had warned me that the longer her chest remained open, the higher the risk for infection. But, she was so swollen following surgery, that they couldn't close for quite a while. Chest closure went pretty well. She was stable afterward. She was still having heart rate issues and they kept trying to balance her electrolytes. Any time her potassium levels went too low, her heart rate would jump up sky high.

One year ago today was the day that I sat by her side, upset about the lack of progress and disappointed that I wouldn't be home by Christmas. Everyday I would get updates about Aubrey, but I couldn't hold either one of my little girls. All I could do was sit by Brooklyn's bedside, holding her hand and praying that she'd get better. I was depressed and upset. Our nurse that day wasn't listening to me. She didn't stay on top of her electrolytes and Brooklyn continued to have erratic heart rates. When they started to go up, I asked the nurse about her potassium levels. She said they were fine. After 10 minutes of watching my little girl's monitors of heart rates in the 200's and listening to the alarms ring, finally the doctor asked the nurse about the potassium level. Sure enough, it was low and they gave her the appropriate amount and her heart rate leveled out. Believe me, I would never have thought I would have learned so much about the heart and medications in such a short time. But, sitting there day in and day out, there's nothing else to do but watch and learn.

The nurse practitioner came in and saw that I was upset. She sat down and asked what was going on. I told her that I was upset at the lack of progress and that it was the same stuff day after day. In my head I just wanted a date, a date that we'd be released and she'd be sent back to the other hospital with her sister. I didn't want to be there any more. I wanted to be home with Aubrey and Andy. I was upset that I had planned to go home for Thanksgiving and my birthday. I wanted to go home and see Aubrey for the first time in over three weeks. Now, with Brooklyn's crazy heart rates, I wasn't sure I'd be able to leave her. The nurse practitioner said that Brooklyn had made progress. She had already had the full surgery to repair her heart and now her chest was closed. She told me that I needed to step back and see that she had made progress. That I couldn't see the forest, only the trees.

How could I see the big picture? My baby was laying on the bed, naked, hooked up to wires, tubes, monitors, medications. All I wanted to do was get her healthy enough to get her transferred closer to home. I wanted to sleep in my own bed. I wanted to hold my healthy baby. I wanted it to all be over. Now I'm angry about those thoughts. I should have just appreciated what I had. The fact that she was alive and making slow progress. I know it's irrational, but I feel like I put too much pressure on her by setting a time line. I should have just accepted the situation and dealt with it rather than making a time line.

I learned so much about myself during my journey with Brooklyn in the hospital. I don't take a single moment for granted anymore. I often step back and am able to see the forest now. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by the trees in front of me, but I force myself to let it go and look at the whole picture. Life is so different now. I'm a different person. She has made me a better person.