My husband Tim and I had been unsuccessfully trying for another baby for some time. Then, right around Mother’s Day, we got the present we’d been hoping for, a positive pregnancy test. The first few months were filled with joy and anticipation, but a scheduled ultrasound during my 19th week changed everything. The sonogram showed our son had a heart defect. As an intensive care nurse married to a physician, I knew how dangerous this could be. When they administered my amniocentesis— a test for genetic disorders that may be the cause of our baby’s heart condition—I was so numb that I didn’t even feel the needle go in me. The results showed no traceable cause; a twist of fate with no scientific reason.
At a time that should have been filled with giddy anticipation, my last month of pregnancy was shrouded in sadness and fear. As my due-date got closer we met with a cardiologist who did an extensive fetal echo on our unborn child. She told us that our baby had Transposition of the Great Vessels (the aorta and pulmonary arteries were transposed), Tricuspid Atresia (his heart’s tricuspid valve didn’t form properly), a couple of atrial septal defects and one large ventricular septal defects. I had never been so scared in my life. The doctor did her best to explain what the long list of medical terminology meant, but the more symptoms she listed the more I became focused on a single question: can anyone fix my baby?
We went home that night and researched the Internet for the best place to have his surgery. Children’s Hospital Boston repeatedly popped up as the number one children’s hospital for cardiac surgery. Boston was a long haul from our home in Florida but we were willing to do anything to help our son.
Once in Boston we met Dr. Ron Lacro, a Children’s cardiologist, who did his own fetal echo. He was kind, compassionate and very sensitive to the pain we were going through. He explained to us that our son would need three open heart surgeries. We tried to enjoy the rest of the year, but as the holidays approached it took every bit of energy to put on a happy face for our other children knowing that on January 5 we would be headed for Boston.
We arrived in Massachusetts in early 2009, and were lucky enough to be placed with a wonderful host family for the two weeks until my C-section could be performed and our son Roman Alexander could be born. When he finally arrived, I was devastated that I couldn’t even hold him after the birth because he had to be rushed directly to Natal Intensive Care Unit (NICU.)
While I was in the recovery area a nurse rolled my baby into my room in a large incubator so I could see him just for a moment. Even with all kinds of monitors attached to him I could see he was beautiful! I’m so thankful for the nurse who gave me that precious moment where I could touch his hand and tell him how much I loved him.
Roman was just 8 days-old when he had his first heart procedure. We walked him to the surgical unit, but all I could do was cry because I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again. We sat in a waiting room for what seemed like days, until our son’s surgeons, Dr. Pedro del Nido and Dr. Sitram Emani, came into the room and told us that everything went well. We were elated. My husband and I sat there with tears streaming down our faces while they talked. The differences between happy tears and miserable ones are huge— a difference I’m glad I got experience that day.
Everything was going as planned until the day we were set to leave. As we were gearing up for the trip back to Florida I gave Roman a routine diaper check, and almost fainted when I saw his diaper soaked with blood. Within minutes, his surgeons were assessing him and found an infection in his colon. The discovery meant the second phase of his surgeries needed to be done early. It was terrifying but immediately after the procedure Roman bounced back and seemed so full of life.
For Roman’s first birthday we had a huge party. I learned that birthdays are not about presents and cake, but celebrating life. There aren’t words strong enough to describe how thankful I am for everyone at Children’s Hospital Boston; they not only took care of our son, but they also took care of us.
Roman is now 19 months old and a happy baby. He’s just learned to walk and is getting into all kinds of mischief. He may not know it yet, but he has taught us all to be thankful for every day that we have. We will be back in Boston in January of next year for his last heart surgery and while I wouldn’t say I’m excited for the trip, I know there is no other place in the world we would rather have to go for our son’s care than Children’s.