Surgery Day

Days went by and I still felt like it was all just a bad dream. At the same time I started having vivid nightmares. I couldn't sleep even for a nap without the nightmares. I remember one in particular. In the dream I was given an option. She could be healed but under one condition, I had to be burned to death, slowly. I did it. I remember thinking in the dream, "Well, she won't have a mother but at least she won't be in physical pain." I guess looking back it was my way of trying to grasp at any little control because my life in fact had begun to spin out of it.

Let's fast forward two weeks. She was only 19 days old, not even five pounds yet. Her heart rate spiked up to over 240 bpm. It stayed there for several days. Meanwhile her oxygen percent was below 75 even when she was on the respirator. On December 12th, ironically her due date, a phone call woke us both up. "Over the night your daughter was having multiple seizures. We don't know if she has any brain damage, but we need your consent to test for meningitis."

After the phone call ended I could barely breath. It felt like part of me had died. I tried to keep from throwing up, and I don't think that I have ever cried so hard in my life. I kept telling myself to wake up. Please wake up. Deep down knowing that this was real.

We rushed over to the hospital and on the way received another call from the hospital, informing us that thankfully she does not have meningitis but she is severely dehydrated, among other things. They had to do surgery to put an IV into her heart.

I remember walking into her room. Her sedated little body was a hard sight to behold. They brought us into another room to sit quietly while they attempt surgery. Several hours later, the doctor comes in to tell us that the surgery was unsuccessful. They needed to transfer her to another hospital to attempt a second surgery.

It felt as though my heart was being crushed. I couldn't breathe in deeply. I felt so helpless.