The prior days leading to this life changing event, were filled with ECGs, echos, cardiology consultations, and a tour of the NICU. Seeing all those sweet babies with tubes coming out of many places was enough to take my breath away and beg God for a miracle.
I'm the weakest of the weak when it comes to courage and strength. I thought I may fall apart right then and there and never get back together as a whole human being.
I thought, how can this secret life exist? And how can some people go about their days and some lives, without ever seeing this sight of these precious little angels.
I've been religious all my life, I can probably count with one hand the times I have missed Sunday Mass. Born and raised Catholic, I have always believed and trusted in our Lord. I have never doubted Him, I have always felt Him with me, I have always prayed and taught my daughter to pray.
On this day however, I think I lost my faith for a minute. I was scared, and as I write this with tears in my eyes, I am ashamed that I ever doubted Him, that I didn't trust that He would help in the healing that had to take place in my daughter's precious heart.
The hours she was in surgery seemed like days, my heart felt heavy, it was hard to hold my tears. Other parents were making conversation with stories about their children and all I could think about was mine. My beautiful Jordan Grace and how unfair it was that a surgeon had to open up her heart and fix it. As a mother I kept asking God why this innocent baby girl, why not me?
Her sweet short 6 months played in my mind as we waited and waited. She seemed fine, I couldn't believe she still needed surgery, I believed wholeheartedly that she would be cured miraculously, especially since she never showed any signs of stress like "they" said. "They" being all the doctors we had seen in the past year.
One thing I was sure of was how strong my Jordan Grace was, stronger than me! On this trying day, she not only became my hero, but my strength. She showed us what courage and faith truly look like.
Our sweet angel recovered fast and without too much complaint. The first couple days all she wanted was mama day and night. I was afraid to hurt my little one. I was careful in holding her the right way as we would fall asleep for hours at a time.
When I saw stories of babies having surgery, I always thought how can a parent handle that. Well, we get through it but I don't think we ever get over it. It's a speed bump I've been trying to work through my writing.
There's healing in writing for me. But I have been avoiding this post because I had to dig deep into my feelings file.
There's a song by the great Linkin Park, only my favorite band in the world, called Final Mascarade, there's a line that sticks to me close "the scars begin to fade" I had this song on repeat for the next six months watching my baby's red, long scar on her chest literally begin to fade.
My faith restored and renewed I can now breathe with relief, this chapter in our lives has been written and read.
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