A Night for Reflection (Tues Night)

Well, tomorrow was supposed to be the big day. We were scheduled to go to Yale New Haven Hospital for Tammy to be induced. But early this evening Tammy received a call from the hospital letting us know about our expected arrival at 8:30 tonight!. This was news to us! We scrambled to get all of our family in place tonight instead of tomorrow, show up at the hospital, and then are told that instead of inducing her tonight, it might happen tomorrow!  The team of surgeons, cardiologists and OB's would discuss the timetable tomorrow. So instead of my nice comfy bed, and a nice calm night with Tammy I get this wonderful hospital couch to nestle into for the night. I hope I can sleep, my thoughts and emotions have been all over the place today. My excitement rivals that of Christmas morning, but is overshadowed by fear and trepidation.

Although this is still only the start of the journey, it feels like we have been on this path for a very long time.

 I still remember just a few months into the pregnancy going to a secondary ultrasound at the hospital for "precautionary reasons". Our youngest Cambria had such an ultrasound and we didn't think too much of it. But then I remember hearing the tech mumbling to the doctor, "left ventricle this and left ventricle that" and "do you see the Aorta?"  all moments before the news came crashing down on us that our son was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. I remember fighting the tears as I returned from hearing this news at the hospital and went to pick up our sweet girls. Acadia looked at me and knew something was wrong instantly - "Daddy, what's the matter?" she nervously asked. I thought for sure I had put on my "Daddy Face" but she saw right through it.

That seemed to foreshadow the remainder of Tammy's pregnancy to this point - keeping emotions in check, trying to take all the unknowns in stride. I think for me this process has been a bit different than Tammy because she has been lovingly carrying Declan for 9 months; whereas my interactions with him are the occasional pulsating "kicks" against Tammy's stomach. And because the pregnancy has progressed so much like any other pregnancy (he's fine while inside her now) - it feels like a "normal" pregnancy until we return to the doctor for another gut-wrenching visit.

Those visits stir up the pot of emotions once again and I once again find myself fighting back the tears. Usually it's Tammy and I taking turns with the tears. She might be crying and I am good, then I fight tears and she's good. The most difficult visit for me to date was the visit with our cardiologist, Dr Weeks and she went into great detail of the logistics of the birthing process, the three surgeries, and the steps in between them.  I was absorbing it all, feeling good, ready to tackle what might come our way when she took a sidestep to discuss pain management for Declan. Everything halted for me.  I was processing everything mentally and emotionally she was saying but then it was as if my mind hit a dam that stopped my thought process and emotions and they began pooling as I thought about the pain he would be enduring. His chest would be cut open, heart partially replumbed, and in immense pain - but he would have no way to tell us. He would probably be  in so much pain he wouldn't have the energy to cry.  That did it, I couldn't bear to think about it. I lost my composure and the emotions spilled over. I could vaguely hear Dr Weeks continuing to talk, but I couldn't stop the tears and the thought of him in pain. I've had various knee surgeries, from scopes to reconstructive surgeries and know the grogginess, nausea, and pain that you feel when you wake up. If only I could take Declan's pain for him.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. Tammy and I are both excited and scared. Whatever the outcome may be we will learn to adapt. We appreciate all the thoughts and prayers of family and friends, everyone has been so great to this point and Declan hasn't even been born. We'll do our best to keep everybody up to date.