Ahhhhh - whenever I've been away too long it's almost guaranteed I have been super busy. I so wish I could have maintained my blog better and sooner. If that makes any sense. I wish I didn't have to back track (although I remember EVERY SINGLE day clearly) and just focus on now!! But I'll get to that soon enough.
I was on pins and needles the day of the surgery. Everything and everybody got on my nerves. I tried to smile and I probably did but I didn't feel like it. Of course watching Alejandro play as if there was nothing wrong did bring a real smile to my face. As always, he was my "pain medicine". I hope that when he's older he understands what a HUGE help he was to me.
The surgery didn't take as long as I expected and when they told us it was over, it freaked me out! I immediately thought something wrong had happened. I texted my friend Christina who is a NICU nurse in Austin and asked what could possibly have made the surgery so short. She calmed me down and assured me that it was probably a good thing. And it was!!!
When the surgeons came looking for Paul and I, I literally jumped over everyone's legs to get to them. I looked at their faces and waited for the news. He did great, they said and they were wheeling him to recovery...what a freaking relief!!!! Paul, who had looked pretty good the whole day, almost fainted. I finally took a breath and smiled a real smile.
When we finally went to go see him we thought he looked fabulous!! Which is really funny when you think about it. I mean the poor kid had tubes, wires and a chest that had been opened!! But we thought he looked GREAT!!! He was there and alive and that was all that mattered to us.
Every single day after that was great. Each day when we went to see him in the morning, one more tube was gone or one more machine had been removed from his bedside. Everyday was a gift from God. Then we started to really hold him. Which was really weird holding a baby with tubes and all...hey, but we loved every minute of it. He had such a weak little cry. Eventually, he finally had the opportunity to have real food!!!! Whoo hoo!
Luckily that happened the day before Paul had to go back to work. So, being the good wife that I am, I let him feed him. It was a little tricky because some heart babies have trouble feeding because they get so tired. Well, little Joaquin sure did take a little while to learn. He spilled all over the place because he was tired and didn't know how to latch on to the bottle. One of his wonderful nurses, Trish, taught us how to feed him. He started to do better. Then Paul had to go home. I know that was extremely hard for him but he had no choice. He left all three of us in Corpus to start a new position with Pepsi and move into our new home.
Luckily my mom was still there was with us...but not for long!! Shortly after Paul left they gave us the old heave-ho!! Which was a good thing. Joaquin was doing so good that we were moved up to the 8th floor and given a private room. But since he was released from PICU, that meant no more hospital guest room which meant that mom and Alejandro had to go back to Brownsville.
That was bittersweet. I was thrilled but my mom was leaving me. The last of my support system!! What was I going to do??? After dad came to pick up mom and Alejandro I was left with Joaquin in our room. It was actually kinda cool. And weird. It was the first time since July 9th that we were ALL ALONE. Bonding. We needed it. Being up on the 8th floor made me count my blessings too. We were on the floor where there were mainly oncology patients and boy it made me soooooo sad to see these little children walking around with IV's and no hair. But yet they were smiling. Their parents were smiling too but their smiles were different. Theirs were like mine the day of the surgery. There was pain behind their smiles. But not the kiddos...theirs were pure. Gifts from God.
I swear we only spent two days on the 8th floor!! Before I knew it, Joaquin's surgeon came in and told me, "Let's this guy released before he catches an infection in this hospital!". Yes!! We were going home the next day!!!
It took FOREVER to get released. I had to take a CPR class and Joaquin had to pass his carseat test!! Basically they asked me how long the drive was and that was how long Joaquin had to sit in his car seat while being observed. They needed to see if he would stop breathing at anytime. He didn't. And he passed. And I passed my CPR class and that was it!! The nurse came in and gave me all his follow up appointments and his prescriptions and then all we had to do was wait for Paul, mom and Ale.
It was great when they finally arrived. Ale finally got to hold his baby brother and he LOVED it. We packed up our stuff, put Joaquin in his car seat, said good-bye to the staff and we were gone. Off to begin our crazy new life...
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
On a Faith Alone
I couldn't see straight anymore. I felt like I had constant tears in my eyes. The only thing that would make me smile was Alejandro and his silly ways. After all, he had no idea what his brother was about to go through.
The surgeon that spoke to us mentioned several procedures and all I clearly remembered hearing was "heart transplant". I swear I almost lost it. But then the doctor said that wasn't really necessary. So it instead they chose to perform a Hybrid procedure. It would be "open chest" and they didn't know when they would do it. "Open chest". That hurt me so much. I would cry those deep cries that hurt your chest after a while. I kept thinking the worst. I was terrified. What scared me the most...I was losing my faith.
Anybody that knows me well enough will tell you that I have a very strong faith in our Lord. But something was happening to me and I couldn't put my finger on it. I kept on telling Paul that I couldn't do it, I couldn't be strong. I held on to my mom as if I were a baby myself. I didn't know where to turn. Where was my faith when I needed it the most? Without my faith I was losing myself.
The turning point came when one doctor gave me another scare. I really can't tell you word for word what he said to me but he was basically telling me that my baby could die. I just stared at him blankly, nodding, staying "strong"...and then my mom and I walked out. On our way back to my room...I lost it. I cried...cried so much that I almost fell to my knees. My angel, my mom, picked me right back up and told me what I needed to hear. It wasn't time for me to give up and be scared. But I told her that the thing that scared me more than losing Joaquin was losing my faith. I felt like God was going to be angry at me for losing my faith in him. Mom told me that he wasn't but I needed to put my faith back in him 100%! I collected myself and went back to our room.
Later that day, I went back to see Joaquin. But before I did, I stopped by the chapel. My visits to the chapel prior to this one consisted mainly of begging, pleading and crying. This visit was different. I walked in to the small chapel and got on my knees. I took a deep breath and cleared my mind. And the words just came out. "I will not accept evil in my life". When I said it, things became clearer...my faith was back. Because when you think about it, that's exactly what was going in my life. There was a war between good and evil and I had to step up and accept God once again into my life. I said no to evil and good won.
I'm not saying I wasn't scared when they wheeled my baby into surgery at seven days old or when I waited in that waiting room for what seemed like hours. Or when they told me he had a fever after surgery...but all that time...my faith was back and I knew, with my heart of hearts, that whatever the turnout, I would be ok.
The surgeon that spoke to us mentioned several procedures and all I clearly remembered hearing was "heart transplant". I swear I almost lost it. But then the doctor said that wasn't really necessary. So it instead they chose to perform a Hybrid procedure. It would be "open chest" and they didn't know when they would do it. "Open chest". That hurt me so much. I would cry those deep cries that hurt your chest after a while. I kept thinking the worst. I was terrified. What scared me the most...I was losing my faith.
Anybody that knows me well enough will tell you that I have a very strong faith in our Lord. But something was happening to me and I couldn't put my finger on it. I kept on telling Paul that I couldn't do it, I couldn't be strong. I held on to my mom as if I were a baby myself. I didn't know where to turn. Where was my faith when I needed it the most? Without my faith I was losing myself.
The turning point came when one doctor gave me another scare. I really can't tell you word for word what he said to me but he was basically telling me that my baby could die. I just stared at him blankly, nodding, staying "strong"...and then my mom and I walked out. On our way back to my room...I lost it. I cried...cried so much that I almost fell to my knees. My angel, my mom, picked me right back up and told me what I needed to hear. It wasn't time for me to give up and be scared. But I told her that the thing that scared me more than losing Joaquin was losing my faith. I felt like God was going to be angry at me for losing my faith in him. Mom told me that he wasn't but I needed to put my faith back in him 100%! I collected myself and went back to our room.
Later that day, I went back to see Joaquin. But before I did, I stopped by the chapel. My visits to the chapel prior to this one consisted mainly of begging, pleading and crying. This visit was different. I walked in to the small chapel and got on my knees. I took a deep breath and cleared my mind. And the words just came out. "I will not accept evil in my life". When I said it, things became clearer...my faith was back. Because when you think about it, that's exactly what was going in my life. There was a war between good and evil and I had to step up and accept God once again into my life. I said no to evil and good won.
I'm not saying I wasn't scared when they wheeled my baby into surgery at seven days old or when I waited in that waiting room for what seemed like hours. Or when they told me he had a fever after surgery...but all that time...my faith was back and I knew, with my heart of hearts, that whatever the turnout, I would be ok.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Roller Coaster, Baby!
It was pretty darn scary to have all those people in the delivery room with us. Once I dilated to a 9, it's as if they completley forgot about me and focused on the baby. Ok - well my Ob, Paul, my mom and my mother-in-law were concerned about me but everybody else that was there was there for him. I think, total, there were 14 people in the room. My Ob, an Ob resident, a med student, a neonatoligist, one RT, two or three nurses for me, nurses for the baby and a tech. Forget a little modesty at this point.
Joaquin's birth was by far different than Alejandro's. For one, when I had Alejandro I did not have 14 people in the room. Not for a long shot. I was in labor for 16 hours with Alejandro and I pushed for two hours. With Joaquin I was in labor for maybe 10 hours and I pushed for 45 minutes or less.
When he came out they quickly took him to the warming table and I was anxious to hear him cry. I finally breathed when I heard his weak cry (I would later on learn that a weak cry is a clear sign of a heart problem). The neonatologist brought him to my side for a quick kiss and he was gone. And so was everybody else. The room went from 14 people to four. My Ob was teaching her student and I listented along. Well hey, since she was teaching I figured I would ask to see the placenta. So that's what it looks like...interesting, I told her. Once they were done, I was left all alone to wonder what was going on with Joaquin.
Paul came back to tell me that he was fine and that he was being worked on in the nursery. They finally moved me to a recovery room and by 9:30PM, Joaquin was wheeled by me in an incubator by the Driscoll transport team. I must have been on some adrenaline rush because I jumped out of the bed so quickly to see him that I felt no pain. Alejandro got to see him through a little window and I stuck my hand in there to touch him. He was alseep and buckled in...ready for the ride.
Paul followed the ambulance over to Driscoll and was given a guest room by social services. I remember calling him several times to see if he had heard anything. Paul said they kept on running tests on him but that everything was ok. Ok...so I fell asleep. Alone. No husband, no baby...alone.
The next morning I was bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to go see my baby. My Ob came in and asked if I was ok. I was so cheery that I think I freaked her out. She told me to relax and she discharged me 12 hours after having Joaquin. And off I went.
Discoll Children's Hospital is something else. Such a cheery and hopeful place. Later on I learned that most parents there were clinging on to just that - hope. As I got my band, I headed up to the second floor...PICU, bed three. My cutie looked perfect and pink! Wow... I told myself. I was glad I was prepared because this seemed like a piece of cake. Until she came in.
She was Dr. Goya. She had maroon scrubs on and she looked a mess. Her accent told me she was from Spain. And her words told me what I didn't want to hear. She looked so sad and concerned and I kept wondering why. And then I learned why. Dr. Goya was somehow trying to tell me that our son did not just have Tricuspid Atresia as we were told when I was pregnant but he also had Transpotition of the Great Arteries, Type B and an Interrupted Aortic Arch. I'm sorry - what???
I didn't hear any of that. And it took me while to finally understand what all that meant (I'll explain in detail in a later post). All I kept hearing was complex and complicated. Those words are now like nails on a chalkboard. What parent wants to hear that her baby's heart is "complicated". I could not stop crying. My whole world came crashing down on me. Joaquin's heart was complicated and mine was broken...
Joaquin's birth was by far different than Alejandro's. For one, when I had Alejandro I did not have 14 people in the room. Not for a long shot. I was in labor for 16 hours with Alejandro and I pushed for two hours. With Joaquin I was in labor for maybe 10 hours and I pushed for 45 minutes or less.
When he came out they quickly took him to the warming table and I was anxious to hear him cry. I finally breathed when I heard his weak cry (I would later on learn that a weak cry is a clear sign of a heart problem). The neonatologist brought him to my side for a quick kiss and he was gone. And so was everybody else. The room went from 14 people to four. My Ob was teaching her student and I listented along. Well hey, since she was teaching I figured I would ask to see the placenta. So that's what it looks like...interesting, I told her. Once they were done, I was left all alone to wonder what was going on with Joaquin.
Paul came back to tell me that he was fine and that he was being worked on in the nursery. They finally moved me to a recovery room and by 9:30PM, Joaquin was wheeled by me in an incubator by the Driscoll transport team. I must have been on some adrenaline rush because I jumped out of the bed so quickly to see him that I felt no pain. Alejandro got to see him through a little window and I stuck my hand in there to touch him. He was alseep and buckled in...ready for the ride.
Paul followed the ambulance over to Driscoll and was given a guest room by social services. I remember calling him several times to see if he had heard anything. Paul said they kept on running tests on him but that everything was ok. Ok...so I fell asleep. Alone. No husband, no baby...alone.
The next morning I was bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to go see my baby. My Ob came in and asked if I was ok. I was so cheery that I think I freaked her out. She told me to relax and she discharged me 12 hours after having Joaquin. And off I went.
Discoll Children's Hospital is something else. Such a cheery and hopeful place. Later on I learned that most parents there were clinging on to just that - hope. As I got my band, I headed up to the second floor...PICU, bed three. My cutie looked perfect and pink! Wow... I told myself. I was glad I was prepared because this seemed like a piece of cake. Until she came in.
She was Dr. Goya. She had maroon scrubs on and she looked a mess. Her accent told me she was from Spain. And her words told me what I didn't want to hear. She looked so sad and concerned and I kept wondering why. And then I learned why. Dr. Goya was somehow trying to tell me that our son did not just have Tricuspid Atresia as we were told when I was pregnant but he also had Transpotition of the Great Arteries, Type B and an Interrupted Aortic Arch. I'm sorry - what???
I didn't hear any of that. And it took me while to finally understand what all that meant (I'll explain in detail in a later post). All I kept hearing was complex and complicated. Those words are now like nails on a chalkboard. What parent wants to hear that her baby's heart is "complicated". I could not stop crying. My whole world came crashing down on me. Joaquin's heart was complicated and mine was broken...
Friday, October 2, 2009
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