Bittersweet

Last Tuesday Peter and I drove our little Annibelle to Riley Hospital in Indianapolis for a check-up on her heart. I'm always nervous when going to these appointments, as I always receive bad news; the kind that breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. I put on a brave smile, though, and carried my precious babe into the first room for her 'echo'. They asked if I'd like to hold her during the test, and I said "yes!" (the uptown location we'd been to in the past never let me hold her during this miserable, long test).
I climbed up onto the bed and unsnapped Annibelle's shirt for the test. I tried to allow myself to be distracted by "The Bee Movie" they had playing on the T.V. screen, and was glad Annibelle seemed to like it, but I couldn't help but peek at the echo monitor and see all the blue blood mixing with the red... I hardly understood what else I was seeing, but I knew it wasn't good. It never is. After more than an hour and a half of testing we finally got to snap up the baby and move to the next room to wait for the cardiologist to give us the results.
10 minutes later Dr. Farrell walks in and, in her unnaturally BOOMING voice, begins telling us all the bad news; "her arteries are too small, the valve is narrowing, she can't pump the blood she needs, she should be on the medication, if she were a newborn we'd schedule an immediate surgery!...." The list went on. Finally, though, a light at the end of the tunnel. Because of her large size and weight (which is truly rare for a baby with heart disease), they are willing to schedule the open heart surgery (the full repair!!!) for next month, even though she'll only be 5 months old.
I'd thought of this moment MANY times in the past 4 1/2 months; always playing it out in my mind, and how I might react. I was surprised to find that I felt relief. Relief that at some future date I wouldn't have to be afraid of my baby dying every time she cries. Relief that she will live, and live a happy, active life! Relief that every moment with her might not be the last. I was actually happy about the news!
We didn't get back home for another hour and a half, and when we did I started to come down from my 'high'. Peter went into his office to work, and I went into the family room to take care of our baby. As I sat down with her in my arms, tears began streaming down my face. Tears a relief, and now, tears of fear. With the surgery scheduled for just one month away, could I keep her alive? Though I filled the perscription for Annibelle, (the one that would slow her heart rate down and possibly help save her in an emergency), I just don't feel right about giving it to her. I worry that if she has an emergency and dies, that I could never forgive myself if I could have prevented it. I worry that something might go wrong with the surgery... or with the healing. I'm afraid for her; for the pain and fear she may feel. How I wish I could protect her from it all. I know I won't leave her side while she's in the hospital. I pray for her constantly, and know that it will all work out. She's strong. Stonger than me, I think.

When you get the life changing news that you're pregnant, you never expect to be faced with challenges such as this. It could be better... It could be worse. I'm just grateful for each day, and each moment I have with this little angel of mine. A simple "gummy" smile from her lights up my day.