Surgery Day

This season is marked by so many dates. Today was Brooklyn's open heart surgery one year ago. We waited over 2 weeks for her to finally be ready to go into such a big and risky surgery. She had been waiting in the NICU and was on many medications to keep her PDA open and to stabilize her blood pressure. Finally they felt like she was stable enough and ready for the big day. All heart moms can relate to the wait. It's all about bed space. They were more than willing to operate on her, but we had to wait for a bed in the CVICU. Finally, they said the 2nd would be the day.

We talked to each team member that was to be apart of her operation. We read the countless release forms, asked questions, and worried and worried some more. She was even apart of some sort of research trial with a new type of scope they used during the surgery. That was another hefty book to read and additional forms to sign. I felt very comfortable with her heart surgeon. He is well known for his work on preemies and itty bitty hearts. He had worked on babies much smaller than Brooklyn. That's amazing to me. How can he make such delicate repairs to a heart smaller than the size of a grape? Amazing. I knew she was in good hands.

We arrived early to the hospital since they were going to take her back at 7am. I wanted to spend time with her before she went. I honestly had no idea if she'd make it through the incredibly long and invasive surgery. They were going to open her heart! I was worried sick. We spent quality time with her and they even allowed Andy and I to stay with her during shift change at 7am. Finally they came at about 8am to take her back. They transferred her to the portable machines and off she went. We walked the hallways with her until the surgery wing. That was the hardest moment for me... watching them take her away. I didn't know if I'd ever see her again.

We waited all day. It was the longest wait of my life. They gave us a pager in order to let us know if there was any information. It never beeped. Which, in itself is good news. No news is good news. I was getting restless. I had brought giraffie with me to wait it out and give me something to focus on. I tried to nap, but I couldn't. I was too worried. I had so many thoughts and emotions. They were going to do the full repair right then. Get everything done in one surgery. That meant she wouldn't have to have any more surgeries until she outgrew her new pulmonary valve. That sounded good to me.

Finally there was news. After circling the receptionists desk and telling her countless times that I needed to know something, she went to the OR to check on the status of our precious Brooklyn. Surgery was complete, but there was some additional bleeding that they were worried about and they wanted to give it some time since the OR is the best place to keep her in case something else needs to be done. Okay... that was relief. She survived. She survived the bypass machine and having her tiny heart stopped for a little while during the repair. I was relieved and feeling optimistic. It was still a long wait after that to finally see the surgeon who came out to the waiting room to give us an update. She was in recovery, the surgery went really well and he was pleased with the repair. The next 48 hours would be critical for her. I think that's all I heard. I know there was far more information shared... but that's all I needed to know at the time.

About an hour later we were allowed back to see her. I was shocked at how she looked. I literally got sick to my stomach and felt dizzy and had tears streaming down my face. My little girl was purple. I kept asking, "you're sure she's breathing?" Of course she was, she was on a ventilator. She had nurses and doctors all around her. She was hooked up to a million medication lines and machines. It was scary and overwhelming. I tried to listen, but I couldn't get past the color of her skin. That's not how she looked when she went back now look at her! After a few minutes, I had to excuse myself. I was sure I was going to get sick in the middle of the CVICU. I made my way, in a daze, to the parent bathroom. I was so upset that I was physically ill. I just couldn't handle it. It all hit me at that point the magnitude of the situation.

What if she wouldn't make it? She couldn't die. She had a twin sister. What would Aubrey do without her? What would I do without her?

After a few minutes I gathered myself back together and made my way back. We stayed for a little while just watching the hustle of the nurses around her. I couldn't hang. I needed to sit down. We left and found a private area where I bawled like a baby in Andy's shoulder. This wasn't supposed to be happening to us. This wasn't supposed to be happening to our baby. We sat together for a long time. Somehow I gathered the strength to walk down the hallway to our families. I just kept saying that she didn't look right that she was purple. Her chest was open, she was hooked to a million lines, and the next 48 hours are critical. That's all I could explain. I was done. I couldn't think. I couldn't talk.

My mom drove us back to the hotel where I curled up in bed and cried. I was heart broken and physically ill. I was worried that the phone was going to ring at any second to tell us that she didn't make it through the night. The phone call didn't come... thankfully!

I don't know what time I fell asleep or what time I woke up. Oh, right. I was pumping so I was up several times throughout the night to pump for my girls. There was a purpose for me. It gave me something to focus on. Something to distract me.

We made it to the hospital the next morning to find that she made it through the night. She was still critical, but everything was going according to plan and her recovery was normal for a preemie with lung issues. That was only the case for the first two days. Soon after that, she started to swell. Every piece of her body was swollen... even her little ears. It was so hard to watch. But everyday, I would sit at her bedside, hold her hand, and talk to her. For the first week we had family there, but then it was time for everyone to go back to work. So I was there by myself. That was probably the hardest part. Waiting for her to get better and only being connected to those I love by a phone. It was also extremely hard to be away from Aubrey. The wait was killing me. I just wanted her to get better and it wasn't happening. It was all a waiting game.