When I was 33 weeks pregnant with my son, I attended my routine ultrasound appointment. The technician, who seemed unsure of her skills, told me, “I’m having some difficulty; I’ll need to call the doctor.” Confused, I wondered what was going on. The doctor arrived and began taking more images, and my impatience grew; I was hungry and had errands to run. This appointment was dragging on longer than I expected.
The doctor then mentioned they had captured some good images of my son’s heart and recommended we see a pediatric cardiologist that very morning. “The appointment is at 11. Why don’t you grab some food at the cafeteria while you wait?” she suggested, trying to reassure us that a second look was just a precaution. I thought to myself, “Isn’t she a medical professional? Why is she so casual about this?”
While eating lunch with my husband, who is an engineer and always looks for logical solutions, he encouraged me, saying, “It’s wise to get a second opinion. Let’s see what the doctor says.”
When we arrived at the pediatric cardiologist’s office, I immediately noticed his bowtie. He was an older gentleman with gray hair. After being laid on the table again for more imaging, he looked puzzled and said, “I’m not quite sure why you’re here.” I explained the situation from the previous appointment.
As time passed, he finally revealed, “I don’t see it.” Confused, I pressed him, “What don’t you see?” He replied, “I can’t tell if the pulmonary artery is missing or if I just can’t locate it.” I was stunned but held my thoughts back. I couldn’t believe he was saying this. Only later did I realize the first technician and doctor had known precisely what they were doing but chose not to alarm me.
Then, with a serious tone, he delivered the devastating news: “There is a problem with your baby. He does not have a pulmonary artery.” I was in disbelief. “You just said you weren’t sure what you were looking at. How can you be so certain?” He looked at me compassionately and said, “He needs open-heart surgery immediately after birth. We’ll have the neonatal team ready, and he’ll be transferred to Children’s Hospital right away. Without this surgery, he won’t survive.”
I broke down at this shocking revelation. The weight of knowing something was wrong with my baby, who hadn’t even been born yet, was unbearable.
In the weeks leading up to his birth, we consulted numerous doctors and specialists to prepare for what lay ahead. When my son finally arrived, I held him for only two minutes before he was rushed to Children’s Hospital for surgery. I couldn’t accompany him, and it devastated me.
Fast forward to 2019: my son, born in 2012, has undergone two open-heart surgeries, ten catheterizations, five stents, a valve replacement, and a piece of gortex has been used as his pulmonary artery.
As for me, I’ve seen therapists, dealt with PTSD, lived under constant stress, and struggled with secondary depression. I often found myself anxious about the next appointment or surgery. And this was all before COVID! But I cling to hope.
Every day, I remind myself to silence the negativity in my mind and focus on gratitude. I’m thankful my son turned 9, that medical advancements continue to improve, and for the wonderful care he received at Children’s Hospital. I do not take his life for granted, and I remain hopeful that we’ll share many more years together.
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Helpful Resources
Here are some related searches you might find helpful:
- Heart defects in newborns
- Pediatric cardiology
- Open heart surgery recovery
- Pulmonary artery conditions
- Support for parents of children with heart defects
Summary
This heartfelt narrative recounts the challenges faced by a mother after discovering her unborn son had a severe heart defect. Despite the initial shock and ongoing medical issues, including multiple surgeries, the family has learned to focus on gratitude and hope for the future.