Rainy Day Reflections

It's sprinkling outside. A bit chilly. Overcast.

House is quiet.

I can't help but get wrapped up in my thoughts this blustery morning.

Jill's therapist just left.

Andy is on his way back from Henry's cardiologist appointment.

It's a strange feeling to know without a shadow of a doubt that I live a blessed life...but still feel sad inside too.

When little girls dream about their grown up lives, their husbands, their homes, their children...they never think they'll be "that" mom.

You know, the mom whose son has a cardiologist and whose daughter has a neurologist.

2 out of 3.

You never think you'll ever need to visit a Children's Hospital.

Or keep appointments with physical therapists.

Or quarterly echocardiograms.

The kids are fine. Don't get me wrong.

Henry's heart looks even better than it did at the last appointment. Jill is meeting all of her milestones. Lucy...well, she's just focusing on outweighing each of her siblings. :)

I really try to not worry about my kids. I honestly don't want to expend a single ounce of energy worrying about things that may never happen...but the fact is, I do.

And I hate it.

I don't want to make mountains out of molehills, but I also don't want to be the ostrich with its head in the sand either. It's a weird balance.

I'm not gonna lie. Every. single. day. I worry for my little Jill.

Some days worse than others.

She is fine and not showing any major issues at this point.

But the reality is that it's all a big, huge, fat, awful waiting game.

We know that she had brain trauma. What we don't know is if there are any lasting effects and/or what their severity may be.

We just have to wait and see how she progresses. Does she crawl? Does she walk? Does she speak?

The answers will all come in time.

But no sooner.

And that's hard.

My conversation with the physical therapist:

"So, do you see any reason to believe that she might not walk?" "No, it's too early." "So, you mean that it's possible that she might not be able to walk?" "Yes it is possible." "Is it possible that she might be perfectly fine?" "Yes." "Do you have a guess either way?" "No, it is too early to tell anything at this point. We just have to wait." "So you have no idea?" "No."

Clearly she's been trained to deal with parents like me. Parents who desparately want an answer sooner than it is feasible.

Now.

I had a bit of a panic attack the other day. Thinking that "ohmygosh, if Jill can't walk, we'll have to move! we can't live in a 2 story! but we can't afford to move! and then we'll have to retrofit the house and widen all the doorways and make an accessible bathroom and get a different car with a lift..."

Silly I know. Worrying about tomorrow's problems that may never come.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
-Matthew 6:34

My brain knows these things. But my mama's heart can't help it.

I guess it's just surreal to not be *guaranteed* that your little girl will one day be tearing around the house like a wild banshee.

She may be perfectly fine, but my reality is that that isn't a given. She may not. I don't know.

Only God does.

And I know that He has great plans for her. And Henry. And LuLu. And our little crazy family.

For now, I just love on my littlest girl and do what I can to keep up.

But I won't lie.

With every twitch and every little grimace, my heart sinks into my stomach and I cringe. Oh how I wish those little glimpses and reminders that everything isn't *quite* normal would just go away. She doesn't do it nearly as much as she once did, but they are still there. They haven't gone away completely.

And it makes me sad.

And while I hate not knowing what life will bring for us, it gives me hope. I have hope that this will all just be a phase we look back on.

Like I told the therpist the other day:

"I really hope this is just a giant waste of your time."

"I do too."

And if not, we'll keep on keeping on. Because regardless, I wouldn't change a thing. I don't understand it all, but I know that there is purpose.

And when I find stories like these, I just think:

"If SHE can do it...surely I can."

Henry's Heart: Post Op Appointment

(This is a picture from Easter, but I just hate posting without photos)

We had our first appointment with the cardiologist since the surgery. Everything looks fantastic and the doctor is very pleased with the results. We have to go back in 3 months and after that, it will be longer and longer between visits. He doesn't think that Henry will need to have the surgery repeated, but that if it were to be needed, it would likely be when he is a teenager and does all that growing.

I don't know the names or units of measure, but for reference, a normal heart has (some) measurement between 1-2. Before the surgery, Henry's was 3.8. Today, it is 2.1.

Also, the pressure difference between the two chambers of a normal heart is about 10. Before the surgery, Henry's was 70. Today it is 16. (He said that it is impossible to get it completely to the normal range, but that this is so close, it doesn't matter).

(It's funny, I'm usually really particular about knowing the units of measure and exactly what things are, but in this case, I don't so much...I guess I'm most concerned with knowing my son is better!)

He said that he will always have a murmur (which is just a sound, not a condition), so to be prepared that doctors for the rest of his life will probably make some comment about it. But not to worry.


On the way home from Santa Barbara, we had to re run over a deer on the highway. Blech. It was one of those things where if we swerved, we might have swerved into a semi in the lane next to us or rolled, so we had no choice but to go over it. SOOOO glad we drive an SUV!!! SOOO glad it was Andy driving!!! Nasty though. Gotta go to the carwash.

Entry Site

We pulled off Henry's bandages today.

Awful.

Terrible.

Ugh.

The can do heart surgery through a pin-prick hole, but they can't come up with adhesive that doesn't practically rip the poor kid's skin off????

"Owie, owie, Daddy! No, Daddy!!!"

I was nauseated. The kid was shaking in pain.

Ugh.

Anyway, I thought I would take a picture of the entry site.

If you click the picture to blow it up you can see better...

See that little dot of a bruise? I think that's where they put in some kind of needle...

Now go just to the left of that dot...you'll see a teeny tiny cut.

THAT'S the entry site.

No stitches, staples, nothing.

Can you BELIEVE they can do heart surgery through a space that small???

And can you BELIEVE that only 15 years ago this same thing would be open heart????

Un-be-liev-able.

(I posted this because it was interesting, but also because I remember being so frustrated that I could never find any info or photos relating to this procedure on the internet...so I 'm hoping that maybe some other mom can find this helpful and help ease her nerves as she prepares her own child...)

Surgery Side Story

"I didn't tell you this yesterday because I didn't want to freak you out...but when you were napping during Henry's surgery, one of the other moms in the waiting room got a phone call from the OR...her baby was having heart surgery to repair a hole in her heart...it was supposed to be just like Henry's surgery...just a cathedar in her groin...and apparently something went wrong and they were having to do emergency open heart surgery and it would be at least another 3-4 hours..."

Thank you Andy for having the wherewithall to not tell me this yesterday. And thank you Lord for having me asleep during this phone call...

I only post this because it reminded me of the seriousness of our ordeal.

I certainly didn't want to make things a bigger deal than they needed to be, but I also didn't want to forget the gravity of my son's heart surgery.

Before the surgery, sometimes people would say things like "well, at least it's not a big deal..." or "oh that sounds pretty routine..." I know they meant well...they were likely trying to reassure me or make me feel better, so I'm not saying that they were purposely belittling the experience. But, I always felt a *tad* frustrated at those comments.

I knew that his valvioplasty (?) was a relatively "simple" procedure with relatively low complication rates. I was infinitely grateful that we were able to go the "easy" route. I didn't *really* worry too much about complications...but I did know that IF something were to go wrong...it would go REALLY wrong. There was really no middle ground. Either it was going to go smooth as silk (which thankfully it did), or it was going to go horribly wrong.

This was my son's heart. A vital organ. You could go from "simple procedure" to losing your child on that table in a matter of minutes.

I didn't freak out about this too much, I knew the statistics, but in the back of my head I knew it was a possibility. It doesn't happen often, but it happens to some people...and I desperately didn't want to be one of those people.

I often prayed: "Please do not have the doctor come to me in the waiting room with his cap in his hand and looking at his feet..."

With Henry's boundless energy today it's been almost too easy to forget about yesterday's events. But I am humbled at the reminder that we were very blessed, and I don't want to forget that.

We have no idea whatever happened to that little girl. I'm really hoping that she ended up okay and other than a few stressful hours and a big scar, she'll be just fine.

It is done.

And it feels wonderful.


Our day started at 4:40 a.m. We showered, ate a quick breakfast and headed out.

We got to UCLA at 6:30, were admitted and called to the prep area in a flash. Henry was scheduled for surgery at 7:30.

I want you to know: my biggest fears for the day weren't really related to the surgery itself. I was confident in the doctors and the procedure. I was just really sad to think of handing my precious boy to the doctors and watching them walk away with my boy screaming...or him being hysterical while they put him under. I just worried (a lot) about him being terrified of the process and us being unable to explain to him what was going on and why. I am ECSTATIC to report: it never happened.


We changed him into a hospital gown and then they gave me a little syringe of some red liquid to give to him. They said that in about 10 minutes he would get loopy. And loopy is an understatement!!! I have never wished to have the video camera so bad in my life! His eyes were half open, all glazed over and everything was HYSTERICAL to the kid. He giggled and laughed at everything as if he had just smoked the biggest joint known to man-kind. Andy and I laughed so hard at him. I just said "Son, I better not see this face in 15 years!"

When the anesthesiologist had called me the night before to ask some questions, I had asked if it would be possible for me to sit with him until he was completely under. He said he would check, but parents aren't typically allowed in the cath lab...


Well, I'm glad I asked because they let BOTH of us in the lab! Luckily, Henry was so high that he didn't even care that they were laying him on a table and sticking him with stuff. He just laid there looking around. We got to stay there until he was totally asleep. It was so nice to see how easy it was for him and I believe it was instrumental in keeping my stress levels to a minimum.




We left him and went to the cafeteria, had some breakfast, and then hung out in the waiting room. I was even able to nap for 40 minutes. Before we knew it (about 2 hours), the nurse called to say that the procedure was over and had gone well...and that they would call when we could go see him.

The surgeon came down to see us in the meantime and said that the valve was actually more narrow than it had been a month ago when he checked in his office. He also said that it was really pliable and responded well to the ballooning...and reminded us that just 15 years ago, this same procedure would have involved full open-heart-crack-your-chest-open-surgery!!! Praise God for medical advances!!!

About a half hour later, they called the waiting room again and said they wanted "only the mom" to come up. Andy's face fell. "Gee, I guess I'm not special enough." "Apparently, they think you were only a sperm donor...sorry babe."

I rushed up to the recovery room and found my little man groggy and attached to what seemed like a million machines. He was fine. Within minutes, he was trying to rip off all of the IVs and connections...and crying the most pitiful mournful cry of "Daddy! I want my Daddy! My Daddy!!!" We were supposed to stay in that area for an hour, and they only allow one person because it's so small. The nurse took pity on my child, so she arranged for us to be moved to the main recovery area in a half hour instead so he could see his dad.

And here, was BY FAR, the hardest part of the entire experience. I would have never guessed it.

My instructions:

Keep your not-quite 2 year old, very active boy, laying flat on his back with his leg straight...for the next SIX HOURS.

Right.

While Henry was a little groggy at first, and maybe not quite his usual self, he wanted nothing more but to sit up in the bed. After about an hour, I asked if they could sedate him, because seriously, this wasn't going to work. Nope. They couldn't give him anything stronger than Tylenol...we were just going to have to deal. So Andy and I spent an exhausting 6 hours absolutely FIGHTING with an increasingly alert and energetic child to lay flat.

Awful. Absolutely awful. Time crawled.



He did finally take a 30 minute nap...but it didn't last nearly long enough...


Finally it was 4:00 and we were discharged. Henry could sit up, walk, whatever he wanted.


It wasn't until we were in the parking garage waiting for the valet to bring our car that I cried. It was over and the relief was incredible. 2 years of cardiologist appointments every 3 months, constant worrying about impending surgery, worrying that his heart wasn't working right, wondering how he would do when the day came...all of it was over. I was overwhelmed. And thankful beyond belief...

The girls were still baking away, unscathed by the ordeal. I didn't stress out like I thought I would. Henry wasn't even in pain. It was easy. Too easy.

God is so good to us it's ridiculous.

We spent a few hours in the hotel room we had booked and decided that it would be best to just head home that night. Let Henry wake up in his own crib, and us in our own bed.

We pulled into our driveway at 12:15 a.m.

This morning, I found Henry jumping in his crib. In fact, he's jumping on our bed as we speak. You would never, in a million years, know that he just had HEART SURGERY less than 24 hours ago. Unbelievable. I think he might be a little sore later today, but for now, he is bounding around like a crazy man without the slightest hint of pain...

...the only hint of surgery is the bandage on his groin, a band-aid where his IV was, and a hoarse little cough from having the tube down his throat.

Really, think about it: 24 hours ago (exactly as I type) someone was TOUCHING his HEART. Not his kidney, gall bladder or other non-essential organ. But his HEART. And he is fine. More than fine.

PRAISE GOD!!!!

What you can do...

...lots of people keep asking if there is anything they can do to help...cook meals, etc. But at this point, I'm not sure that we need that. The doctors tell us that recovery is relatively easy and doesn't last long. If I find that a meal would be helpful, I'll be sure to let someone know! Really!

But, what you CAN do is say a little prayer for us in the coming days. Specifically:

-Traveling mercies. That we are safe both ways.

-For an uneventful and successful surgery.

-That the girls stay cooking and aren't affected by the stress of their brother's surgery.

-That recovery really IS easy and short!

Thanks in advance for all the love and support! We very much appreciate it!!!

House Arrest

Henry's surgery is in just a few short days (Thursday to be exact) and in an effort to keep him healthy and sickies free, I have put him on strict house arrest. He hasn't been allowed to go anywhere...so if I have to run an errand, either Andy has to do it, or I wait until he's home so that he can stay home with Bubble Boy.

Luckily the weather has been nice so we spend a lot of time in the backyard, so he doesn't seem to have cabin fever yet. I, on the other hand...

Interesting update on his heart surgery:

We were told that we would have to stay overnight for monitoring...but apparently Henry is the first on the surgery docket that morning...which means that he should be having it done by about 8-8:30 a.m. (we have to be at UCLA by 6:30) Assuming he doesn't have a reaction or things don't look wonky, we could be discharged late THAT same afternoon! (I guess that originally he wasn't going to be first on the schedule so that's why we were going to have to stay overnight). This is fantastic...I was wondering how on earth I was going to get ANY sleep in a hospital chair 31.5 weeks pregnant with twins...now it doesn't look like I have to worry!

My OB insists on me taking a copy of all of my prenatal records and even my hospital bag. Just. in. case. I don't *think* I'll be going into labor, but I'll bring everything with me and hope that my preparedness means I don't need it after all (because you know if I leave it all at home is when I'll need it!).

Henry's Heart

We had a crazy, busy weekend…my mom threw me a SUPER cute baby shower on Saturday (which I will blog about later) and we did a lot of hanging out with friends and family in L.A. Henry had a heart doctor appointment at 8:30 Monday morning (today), so we just left L.A. at 5:30 a.m. and did it on the way home.

Well, everyone…it is here.

We have surgery scheduled at UCLA Children’s Hospital on May 21st. We have to be there at 6:30 a.m. and his surgery will be sometime after that. He won’t be able to eat or drink anything after midnight the night before, so hopefully he won’t be too crabby that morning since he’s used to having breakfast RIGHT away. The surgery is expected to last 2-4 hours (is it just me or does that seem like a HUGE window???), and he will have to stay overnight for monitoring…so we can go home sometime on Friday. Recovery is pretty easy (so they say), so I’m hoping it isn’t too hard on him. Should be interesting to see how well I’ll sleep in a hospital chair…32 weeks pregnant with twins. But there is just NO WAY I’ll be leaving my little guy’s side. Big belly or not.

He did pretty well at this appointment and didn't cry very much. He only cried when they pulled the little EKG stickers off of him...they were really sticky and pulled his skin..."owie! owie! owie" Poor guy...I tried to tell him that he should be glad he doesn't have chest hair yet, but I don't think he understood.


It’s weird. About 90% of me is relieved. Relieved that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Relieved that I won’t have that nagging wonder in the back of my head about how well his heart is functioning. Relieved that the surgery will be done and over with when I still only have one child to devote my attention to.

But there’s that 10% of me that is so….sad. Sad that my sweet little boy needs heart surgery. Sad that he even has to deal with this at all. Sad that it is real and true and didn’t just go away.

We’ve known he was going to need surgery since he was about 3 months old, so this is certainly no surprise. Just a milestone in Henry’s little life. Like the first day of school or moving out of the house…stuff that I know will happen someday, but I’ll cry when it does anyway.

In the meantime I have to keep him healthy...no runny nose, ear infection, cough...they won't put him under full anaesthesia if he's even the least bit sick. No pressure mom!

REWIND: Monday's Heart Appointment

**I typed this post out on Tuesday, but hadn't uploaded the photos...then we found out the big news, and it kinda got lost in the shuffle. So, here's some Henry news:

We had another cardiologist appointment on Monday. Henry’s valve narrowing is still considered “moderate”, so we have to wait. Again. We have another appointment scheduled for May 4th. (Remember, they want to wait until it is “severe” to do surgery). So, we wait again. And pay another huge cardiologist bill. Sigh… The appointment itself was really hard. Henry was *terrified* of the ultrasound machine. He cried hysterically the entire time…which he usually does, but this time it was different. He usually cries because he simply doesn’t want to lay there for 20-30 minutes. He wants to get up and play. But this time he cried because he was so scared. It hurt my mommy heart to see him so afraid and not be able to pick him up and make it better.

Then, that afternoon, we had a pediatrician appointment (long day!). Henry weighed in at 23 whole pounds…which is 15%. But he measures in the 52% for height!!!

Henry's Heart...

Doctor listens to his heart with a standard stethoscope. "Wow" he mutters under his breath. Andy and I look at each other. I pace the small room. Technician comes in and does her thing with the ultrasound machine for 30 minutes. No speaking. No feedback, comments, or any indication of what she's seeing. Henry starts out okay. He just lays there silently. If you've been around him, you know that he has A LOT of energy...so this is highly unusual. As I stood there and saw my little hyper boy calm and collected, I had to fight back tears. It broke my heart. It meant that he was used to this. That he knew what to do. I didn't want my little boy to have to be used to having his heart inspected. It was strange to be upset that he was quiet. I guess it made me realize his reality.

But, I guess God heard me thinking and taught me a valuable lesson. Which was: be happy with the blessings you have been given...it could be much worse. And then, Henry decided he was not happy about having to lay flat on his back for 30 minutes. Andy and I desparately do whatever we can to keep him there. We take turns. Like shift work. The room is boiling hot from the giant ultrasound machine. Henry screams most of the time. Somehow, as exhausting and stressful as that was, I felt better about it. It made me a little happy. I understood in a small, miniscule way what other mommy's must feel when their chroncially ill children no longer cry when they get shots. It made me thankful beyond expression that this is all we have to bear for now.

The technician says she wants the doctor to double check some things. Andy and I look at each other. Doctor comes in and looks at Henry's heart for another 5 minutes or so. We keep up the feeble attempts at making our son happy. He wants none of the bagel I brought...or my cell phone...or our silly songs...or tickling his feet. 40 minutes feel like an eternity.

The doctor flips on the lights, says nothing and leaves to his office. I see him punching numbers from the chart into a calculator. Andy and I say nothing. We just look at each other. He comes back. It is here that I could have burst into tears at the word "boo". I literally braced myself for the news of surgery.

"okay, it's the same as last time. come back in five months."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????!!! What the hell was the 'wow' for? Why would you do this to me??? Do you have any idea how parents analyze each and every facial expression you make...how we scrutinize every sigh and breath and move...and if anything from the visit is even slightly askew we automatically assume it's bad???!!!

I hate these visits.

He again expresses concern at Henry weight (19 pounds at 13 months), but doesn't concede that it may have anything to do with his heart when I explain that we've ran tests and there's nothing wrong metabolically or nutritionally. He also doesn't seem to 'buy' that Henry's just little. So, I push a little for surgery sooner. He won't even entertain it. Frustration, anyone?

I leave exhausted.

We go back January 5th. Check back then. I guess.

Henry's Heart (Part 756)

Look Ma! No hands!

Getting our blood pressure taken. With our beloved blankie.

Dude, you need a haircut. Bad.

Ohhhh....paper towels...that looks like it would make a mess!

Henry has discovered Costco's whole wheat bagels. LOVES them. And good for you to boot!

Bagel and mommy's sunglasses. What more could a boy want?!

What: Cardiologist Appointment.

When: 9:30 a.m.

Where: Santa Barbara

Who: Dr. Harake

Status: The same. Not worse. Not better.

Henry's heart valve is still moderate. The Dr. wants to wait on surgery until it is severe. SO, we're waiting. Again. Our next appointment is in August. So, we'll see. In the meantime, mommy is tired of the waiting. It's hard to have my emotions tossed around...now? when? surgery? soon? no? yes? I really just want it over with. Oh well. It really is all in God's control. You'd think I would have learned that by now.

In the meantime, here's some cute pictures of my skinny little boy. (Blogger is being weird and not letting me move the pictures around so they're a little out of order).

Good News...

We had our cardiologist appointment this morning down in Santa Barbara. The good news is that his heart is no worse this time than it was back in December! (Everytime before this, his valve was narrower than the appointment before). So, we're scheduled for another appointment on April 21st.

Waiting for Dr. Harake to come do our ultrasound.

This was a rare moment of Henry sitting still. He kept trying to roll over and crawl away...much different experience then when he was less active!

Hanging out in the waiting room.

Great news, right? Well, yes of course it is. But, I have to be honest. For the last two months (since our last appointment), I have been stressing/worrying/emotionally preparing myself for a surgery date. We were told last time that we would be scheduling surgery at today's visit. I've hardly slept the last week, and it's been a nagging thought in the back of my head for what feels like forever. So, in a lot of ways, I was really looking forward to today. We would schedule the surgery, go down to UCLA, and move on with life. I could put it behind me and move on. So, to have another almost three months of waiting is a bit heavy. Obviously, I would be so excited if he had said "oh, wow, all gone!"...but he said "let's wait a bit longer..." I wish I could just say 'oh well, I won't worry about it...I'll just go about daily life until April.' Unfortunately, as you all know from my pregnancy days, my sleep is the FIRST thing that suffers whenever I'm stressed out or anything is out of whack. So, looks like another three long months of tossing/turning.

On the upside, I'm happy that it's slowing down and that he'll be that much bigger when the time comes.

(We forgot our camera...again...so these were all taken with my camera phone, and they were all really yellow so I had to convert them to b/w in case you were wondering).

Pulmonary Stenosis

That's what my baby has.

It's weird to think there's anything wrong with him. He's happy, smiley, he doesn't look sick, he isn't a funny color, he doesn't act weird...he looks like any other normal baby. (Okay, maybe smaller).

So, its hard to fathom that there's something wrong with one of his most important organs. Something so wrong that it will require medical intervention....surgical intervention. Not just some prescription medication.

How did this happen? Why? Will he be okay someday? Or will this be the beginning of a long string of future issues? Will this surgery fix it all and make it go away? Will this be just a blip on the radar screen of Henry's life?

I know the doctor says it's not a big deal. But then again, it's not his precious baby lying on that cold table. It's my baby. So, while I'm so glad that we know of the issue and are working to remedy it, my stomach still does somersaults at the idea of seeing my little boy hooked up to anaesthesia, IVs, and other assorted machinery. My skin crawls at the thought of something actually touching his heart. My own heart breaks at the knowledge that he will be sore at the entry site and won't be old enough to convey the pain to me...and that I won't be able to make it all better for him.

I'm just sad for my little boy. I'm pretty sure it'll all be okay and everything will be fine. But I'm still really sad. I had no idea being a mommy would be so heartbreaking. I didn't think for a moment that I would ever have to deal with something like this. It's a helplessness I don't think I've ever felt before. Like Brianna said: I didn't check this box! I want to make it go away. Wake up and roll over and tell Andy that I just had the most horrible dream...

I'm still very aware of the fact that really, of all things, this isn't so bad. Logically I know that we're lucky by many standards. We have an amazing doctor, the technology to fix it, the insurance to cover it, and that of all four heart valves, this one responds the best to the angioplasty.

So, if my brain knows all of these things, why isn't it conveying that message to that soft spot in my chest that has grown tenfold since becoming a mom? I went about my day perfectly fine. It wasn't until now that I realized how hard I really am taking this. I try so hard to be tough. But it's all a total farce.



For more info on pulmonary stenosis see this link.

Pulmonary Valvioplasty - (I think that's what he called it)

Just got back from the cardiologist.

I knew Henry's heart was worse when the ultrasound only lasted five minutes (it was over an hour the first time). I really knew that we wouldn't be getting the "it's miraculously healed!" news when we were told we could get him dressed right afterwards (which meant we were skipping the EKG altogether).

His heart valve narrowness has been categorized severe. The first time we went in July it was mild. The second time (September) it was moderate.

We have an appointment on February 6th. At that appointment, we will "begin preparations" (whatever that means) for the surgery and get it scheduled. I asked how long that would be and he said that it depends on UCLA's bed availability and everyone's schedule. It could be 2 weeks or a month. SO, that means we're looking at late February to mid March for the surgery.

He explained that the surgery is usually in the morning and the baby is sent home the next morning...sometimes that night depending on how things are going. There will be no stitches since the catheter is inserted in an artery in the groin much like an IV needle. Henry will be put under anaesthesia so that he doesn't wriggle around. Adults are usually just put on mild sedatives and can actually watch the procedure on the screen!

I asked if it's a one time deal and he said that typically it is...however, if the baby's arteries are too small for the size cathedar, they have to do it in stages and work up to larger and larger catehedars, which could result in three separate procedures. I'm hoping that at 8-9 months old, Henry's arteries will be big enough to only have to do this once. He said that as in any surgery, there is the risk of complications and even death...although in his 20 years, no one's ever died. Other than the "standard" risks, it's a pretty simple procedure.

He weighed in at 14 pounds and is 25 inches long. According to a growth calculator I found online he is below 5th percentile on both counts. It worries me because that could mean that he's just a small kid, or that his heart is working overtime and stunting his growth. I wonder if he'd grow more after the surgery? Gotta look that up...

I'm not much in the mood for reflective self-evaluation posting at the moment. I'm fine. I'll post how I'm feeling either later today or over the weekend. For now, I thought I'd at least post the facts.