Have you ever held your breath for 11 hours? I have...and I'm still having to remind my body to breathe normally again. The first 6 hours in the OR were spent prepping for the Fontan. After 5 years, there's plenty of scar tissue that's built up, as well as a tangle veins that have decided to weasel their way through things. The Fontan itself (disconnecting the main artery from the bottom of her heart, attaching a plastic tube, then reattaching it at the top of her heart) took about 2 hours. The final 3 hours were spent controlling the bleeding (she didn't need a blood transfusion...yay!), closing her up, and (thanking God especially for this) extubating her successfully.
After a chat with her surgeon in the hallway, we got to see our sugar plum for a couple of minutes in transit to the PICU. "You can kiss her if you want," the anesthesiologist said. YES, PLEASE!!!! We told her how wonderfully she did, how proud we were, and how much we love her. She fluttered her eyes at us and tried to speak. I'm pretty darn positive she was trying to say, "love you."
After a few more minutes, they told us we could come back and be with her. I've never been more excited. With the exception of a couple of very reluctant bathroom breaks, I haven't left her side in almost 6 hours.
Her pain is being managed well, she appears to be draining fluids well, and she hasn't lost a SPECK of the fighter within her ("I want my bed up higher...right now!!!"). She knows we're here. When she opens her swollen eyelids and looks at us, she closes them again peacefully...sleeping.
Please pray that she continues to drain well and that her blood pressure can be managed and steadied. Thank God for His unexpected blessings...today and tomorrow, she is under the care of the same nurse who cared for her so wonderfully five years ago (twice!).
My heart has been in my throat all day...all week, even...so much so that it was practically cutting off my air supply, making it impossible for me to speak at times (ok, maybe not quite like that, but you get the idea). Today was a day where the Holy Spirit intervened for me, with "groanings too deep for words," (Romans 8:26). As much as I didn't want to picture my baby on the operating table, its hard to avoid. Once I got to hear she was doing well and see her, relief washed over me.
The flood of "Big Red Heart Day" pictures and messages, as well as a steady arsenal of prayer warriors with us physically and "at heart" kept us going...from 5:00 am this morning (hmm, now yesterday), until now...almost 1:00 am the next day. I desperately need some rest, but don't want to let go of this tiny hand I'm holding that's grown so much in 5 1/2 years, conquered so much, matured too quickly, and blessed us ALL. My little trooper. My little heart warrior. Our beloved treasure.
I'm still wearing my Big Red Heart...it will probably have to be removed from me at some point. We definitely aren't out of the woods yet, but the first big hurdle is behind us. What a difference a day makes.
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