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
How About a Second Chance?
At the urging of my mentor I have decided to keep going with this little blog o' mine! Since the last post, our little angel - Joaquin Emilio Salazar arrived on July 9, 2009. I cannot even begin to write down my thoughts about his arrival but let's give a whirl...
It was the 1st day of July and I was told at my weekly ob visit that it was time. No, not time to start pushing but time to wait it out in Corpus. I hated hearing that. I was being selfish. I didn't want to use up my maternity leave, I didn't know what to do with pumpkin and hello - I wasn't even packed. But some fear kicked in and I thought, well heck...what if he is born in Brownsville and then he'll have to be airlifted to Corpus...so off we went.
It took two days before Paul and I sent for Alejandro. I missed him too much. So on the 4th of July Paul met my dad halfway and brought back pumpkin and my mom. What a relief. And what fun. I mean, that hotel room was already getting boring for Paul and myself. We busied ourselves with swimming in the pool and almost daily walks at the mall. And still no baby. I headed to the ER once and the doctor's office several times before but not for baby reasons. There's something about Corpus and my asthma...I thought I was going to die or at least deliver a lung alongside my baby.
The weeks and asthma came and went and before you know it, July 9th had arrived. In hindsight I am so glad the baby did not come before my induction date because the hospital was prepared to receieve our little man on the day of the induction.
We arrived at Corpus Christi Bay Area at 5 AM and within hours I was having contractions. I tried to be a martyr and suck up the pain but at 7cm dilated I began to BEG for an epidural. Soon after, I was a happy camper. I was able to see my pumpkin and all of our other visitors. Before I knew it I was dilated to a 9 and then the roller coaster began its uphill climb.
It was scary to say the least. Paul will claim he wasn't scared but his eyes said otherwise. Everything that we had been warned about was about to come true. I thought I was prepared, but I wasn't. Not by a long shot...
It was the 1st day of July and I was told at my weekly ob visit that it was time. No, not time to start pushing but time to wait it out in Corpus. I hated hearing that. I was being selfish. I didn't want to use up my maternity leave, I didn't know what to do with pumpkin and hello - I wasn't even packed. But some fear kicked in and I thought, well heck...what if he is born in Brownsville and then he'll have to be airlifted to Corpus...so off we went.
It took two days before Paul and I sent for Alejandro. I missed him too much. So on the 4th of July Paul met my dad halfway and brought back pumpkin and my mom. What a relief. And what fun. I mean, that hotel room was already getting boring for Paul and myself. We busied ourselves with swimming in the pool and almost daily walks at the mall. And still no baby. I headed to the ER once and the doctor's office several times before but not for baby reasons. There's something about Corpus and my asthma...I thought I was going to die or at least deliver a lung alongside my baby.
The weeks and asthma came and went and before you know it, July 9th had arrived. In hindsight I am so glad the baby did not come before my induction date because the hospital was prepared to receieve our little man on the day of the induction.
We arrived at Corpus Christi Bay Area at 5 AM and within hours I was having contractions. I tried to be a martyr and suck up the pain but at 7cm dilated I began to BEG for an epidural. Soon after, I was a happy camper. I was able to see my pumpkin and all of our other visitors. Before I knew it I was dilated to a 9 and then the roller coaster began its uphill climb.
It was scary to say the least. Paul will claim he wasn't scared but his eyes said otherwise. Everything that we had been warned about was about to come true. I thought I was prepared, but I wasn't. Not by a long shot...
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