Peace

As I’ve said a thousand times, and am likely to say a thousand times again – THANK YOU to all of y’all who prayed and continue to pray for Regan. I have never so strongly felt the power of prayer as I did in the four hours she was in surgery. I had visions of how the day would go – figuring I would spend the time in tears from the minute she left us until the minute I saw her sweet face and know she was OK. Here’s how the reality went..

On Wednesday morning, we headed down to Philly for her pre-op appointment that was scheduled for noon. They told us the appointment would be a few hours long and to come prepared. Even as I type this, that day is a bit of a blur for me. It seemed the past three months had surmounted to those two days, carefully ensuring the correct doses of medicine, correct amounts of feeds, ounces gained and the number one goal – no sickness. We arrived to the Cardiology floor exactly five minutes before we were scheduled. We met with a series of medical professionals – medical assistants, PAs, nurses and nurse practitioners – all to go over various parts of the surgery day and strict instructions for pre-op. We must have heard a description of her heart condition (again) three times in that day alone, along with step-by-step explanation of the surgery itself. Once all that was done, we headed to the lab for some final bloodwork, and then it was a waiting game until surgery the following morning.

The three of us went to the hotel for the evening and I was basically a ball of nerves for the subsequent twelve hours.  I slept for maybe a couple hours, and even in those hours I had dreams of oversleeping for Regan’s appointment. We arrived at CHOP at 6:30AM and the surgery waiting area was desolate except for us, the registrant, and the nurse who eventually came to check us in. The nurse ran us through the same list of questions we’ve gone through a thousand times, not the least of which was “and what is Bridget in for today?” Mitch and I both exchanged looks like – ‘seriously?!’ I have to assume they ask this as a triple check for patient and parent understanding. This part of the day seemed to drag, but before we knew it, the anesthesiology team was there to greet us and run through (yet another) explanation of their process. The anesthesiologist (wish I could remember her name) was a lady probably in her 70s who kindly introduced herself both to us and Regan before she began talking (you’d be surprised the number of doctors who don’t introduce themselves before they just start talking to you). She wore bright pink lipstick, a strand of pearls and perfectly manicured nails. I knew Regan was in good hands. She guided us to the OR corridor where we had to say goodbye. This was exactly as difficult as you’d imagine. I was grateful they didn’t take Regan away on a stretcher, I just had to hand her over to the sweet anesthesiologist (“JUST” is probably not the right word there). I wasn’t ready to let go. I never would have been ready to let go and I’ll never forget that moment for the rest of my life. Nothing can prepare you for handing your baby over to have her life be in another person’s hands. I’ll need to remember this moment when she tells me she wants to move away from home; all I could do was cling to Mitch in that moment.

As soon as Regan went into be prepped, our nurse for the day walked us up to the cardiothoracic surgeon’s office for us to meet him. Dr. Spray ran us through what I imagine is a very routine speech for him. He told us some potential risks (again), but something he said really resonated with me. He gave some statistic (remember how I feel about those) about one of the risks and said “but someone in your position probably doesn’t care much about statistics.”  He had the presence of confidence, and gave us reassurance that he was the best man for the job. Once that meeting was over, Mitch and I were left to our own devices, and promised hourly updates from our nurse.

This is where I thought I would spend the hours crying and clinging to the prayer shawl that my mom’s cousin (thank you, Patti!) gave me. I did spend the hours clinging to the prayer shawl, but I also felt a peace come over me that I couldn’t have predicted. That peace is due to the hundreds (maybe thousands?) of prayers that were said by y’all – we received many many messages from friends, family, acquaintances across the country that contained prayers and promises of prayer for Regan. I truly mean it when I say I will spend my lifetime saying prayers gratitude for that. Your prayers brought me peace and brought Regan back to my arms faster than I could have imagined. I thought her hours in surgery would feel like a lifetime, but in reality, it felt like they flew. Our first update was Regan was headed into surgery, and in the blink of an eye we were getting our second update that she was out and being patched up. Our third update was she was already extubated and to go meet Dr. Spray in the consult room! After meeting with Dr. Spray, we waited (not) patiently to see Regan. THAT is when the time started to drag. Truthfully, the time waiting to see her seemed longer than the surgery itself.

Well y’all know how the story ends – our fighter girl is back home after a week in the cardiac unit. We still have her NG tube (something I once considered a nuisance now feels like a blessing – more on that later), and she’s working on eating while she recovers. She’s on Tylenol and I have not yet given her anything stronger for pain since she hasn’t seemed to need it (aren’t babies amazing?!).

Before her surgery, I read accounts from other moms on what the experience is like. One of the biggest consistencies is that the babies come out of surgery with their personality ready to explode. I couldn’t agree more. Pre-operation Regan was JUST on the verge of smiling and I felt like she was really holding out on me. Within 24 hours of her operation, she became a smiley little bundle of sunshine. We’re still working on capturing it on film, since as soon as I take a camera out, she breaks out the poker face.

Regan is obviously still in recovery, but I continue to be amazed at her strength (sure to be a theme in her life and ours). Thank you thank you thank you for all your prayers. They are felt, heard and have lifted me more than you could possibly imagine and I hope to return the favor as I pray for all of your personal intentions.

I originally had another message planned for this blog post but her surgery description got a little lengthy, so I’ll save it for next week – spoiler alert – it’ll be about “hidden blessings”.

Love y’all!