The Unknown Unknowns

On the surface, it was probably the second scariest day of my life.

Well ok, let's be honest, it absolutely came in second, to the first open heart surgery my helpless baby girl had.

Ashley, as I mentioned, had a very big surgery that Tuesday morning, in the spring of 1993, and as the next 24 to 48 hours approached, it was clear her little body wasn't liking it. The best way to describe it is it was like a heart transplant patients body rejecting their new heart. That is what happened, her body rejected the surgery and left the next few days very unclear of what life would look like. 

By Friday that week, she would need to go BACK to the ER to 'take down' half of her Fontan surgery, and the prognosis wasn't good.

It was at that moment I was told she more than likely "wouldn't make it through this."

Wait, what?

I personally was not at an age, or maturity level, to handle the truth, let alone be told it so bluntly to my face.

What they were telling me was my daughter would not live past the age of 3. Not only would she need a second open heart surgery, but she'd need another surgery, 3 days after that. She would need a complete take down of the Fontan, because her little body was too small to handle it. 

Three open heart surgeries within 6 days of each other and I was beside myself.

I wouldn't realize this until many years later, but this was a big part of my trauma response I'd be dealing with later in life.

I was in complete and utter shock at the events that were taking place, and I was just a young 19-year-old woman who didn't have a clue how to deal with any of this from an emotional level. It was riveting, terrifying, and utterly sad to watch my 3-year-old literally fight for her life.

Our family was gathered in that waiting room for hours and hours, and for days and days, anticipating that door to open and the worst news possible to be given. My heart sank every time I'd hear voices in the hallway, and I cringed when I heard the handle turn. 

It was a long, long week with two surgeries down and a third on the way.

Ashley was laying there with a million tubes coming out of her body and a breathing tube down her throat doing all of her breathing. Her helplessness shattered me. I was supposed to protect her and there was not a damn thing I could during that week except pray and leave it to God.

She was so strong and had been through so much, but the question was, how strong was I?

Did I have the strength to deal with all of this and not cave or break?

How would this affect her, me, us?

It was a telling week that all of these years later, still haunts me.