Griffin was born on March 14th, 2021 (Pi Day for the non-nerds and dislikers of pie). He was 4 days overdue and despite everyone's best efforts to entice him to embrace his entry into the world, he would not come and they scheduled me to be induced. The doctors did not want me to go that long but I insisted if I had to wait he was going to be my Pi baby and come on the 14th.
I had had a pretty normal and healthy pregnancy. At my 20-week ultrasound, some white spots showed up on his heart in the scan, but the doctors assured us that everything else looked normal and good, so it was most likely an anomaly. We ran a trisomy 13 test (as that was all that was offered to us) and when that came back normal they dubbed the whole thing a fluke and assured us Griffin was ok and healthy. Knowing what I know now, I wish I would have pushed harder for more testing than I did - I was always dismissed for repeat imaging and told insurance would not approve another ultrasound since there was nothing to indicate there might be a concern. We were assured over and over he was okay throughout the rest of my pregnancy.
As I write this I remember wanting to do an out-of-pocket 3D scan to see his face early, but we decided to wait and be surprised. It might have shown something then and would have changed their argument for lack of cause for more testing....but then, it would have changed nothing ultimately, so could have, should have, would have is neither here nor there.
Anyway, I woke up to my alarm at 5 AM on the morning of the 14th to get ready for my induction. No sooner did I make it to the shower than my contractions hit full force and were 5 minutes apart. I told my husband it was go time and we dashed to the hospital. We were so unbelievably excited and scared out of our minds. This was a first for me as I had to be induced with our oldest son four weeks early, and it had been 12 years since I had had a baby. It was a lot like being a first-time mom all over again. I should have known then that was my first sign Griffin would be the boss!
My labor and delivery were quick with no "real concerns" except that his heart rate would drop with each contraction. They kept warning me if I didn't have him soon we would have to do an emergency c-section for his safety, but a few hours later he was here.
I remember thinking he was absolutely perfect, but I instantly knew something was different about him too. I couldn't have told you then what I saw that made me think that, just that he looked exactly like Urijah did but was somehow so very different.
He was also born with his umbilical cord wrapped several times around his neck, and they attributed his struggles during labor and adjusting to this side of the world as being that. To be safe though, they called the on-call pediatric cardiologist to come in and look at him. He quickly found a murmur, but again assured us that it was most likely nothing to be concerned about. Then they handed him to me for the first time.
Instantly and irrevocably I fell in love and my heart stitched back together in places I never knew it was broken. I looked into his eyes and my first thought was, "I know you. Your heart and mine have known each other a very, very long time." My soul recognized his instantly, as if we had always known one another. I touched my forehead to his in the hope that he would absorb all the love, adoration, and honor I had for this tiny brand new person. 6 lbs and 9 oz of perfection. We couldn't wait to get him home to meet his big brother who was so excited to finally meet the little brother he had prayed so long for too. I kept trying to hand him to Jeremy (Dad) who I can still remember so vividly sitting there with a smile of utter contentment and peace on his face, insisting I enjoy the moment a little longer, that he could wait. I still don't know that I ever thanked him enough for giving me those hours.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, no matter how fervently I tried to convince myself I was only being paranoid, I kept hearing that voice say, "Something is not right." We stayed that way for 2 hours as I tried to soak up every bit of him, all as I watched his breathing slowly get faster and faster, and monitored his hands and feet which never did turn the rosy pink they should have but kept turning more and more purple.
The rising panic in me hit the call button and the nurse came in as I frantically showed her what I was seeing and that I knew he was not fine. They whisked Griffin away from me and took him to the small NICU, Daddy following them, and so began the snowball of events that I still can't remember clearly, but I'll do my best.
They did all the tests and when they got to the echo they informed us he had what appeared to be a hole in his heart and maybe "some other issues", and he needed to go to the bigger hospital downtown where their NICU was better equipped for him. The ambulance crew came to get Griffin and I remember sobbing as I watched them put my perfect boy in the isolette to travel to the hospital downtown, feeling like they might as well be taking him to another country. One of the nurses in the NICU grabbed my phone and when I tried to protest she firmly, but kindly, told me I would want these memories someday when he was big and strong to look back on and to remember how strong Jeremy and I were too. I didn't argue and let her take the picture, praying she was right about all of it. I wish I remembered who she was so I could thank her now for giving us that gift, and for reminding us to smile despite the circumstances.
I remember putting on a brave face to convince Jeremy to leave and go with Griffin because the poor man was put in the position of having to choose between staying with his wife who just delivered a baby or going with his newborn son who was having a medical crisis. I remember crying uncontrollably and endlessly as I waited in a small room that I don't remember how I got there (it wasn't the one I gave birth in and I remember feeling like it was too dark and empty) for my own ambulance because they could not take us together with his isolette and medical needs. I remember feeling like it was taking an eternity for them to come and get me. I remember the doctor and nurses taking turns coming in to tell me how sorry they were but assuring me Griffin would be fine.
I remember hours later finally being in an ambulance but not how I got there or what happened after until the pediatric cardiologist who would become Griffin's doctor came in to talk to Jeremy and me in my new room in the antepartum unit. I remember feeling so relieved at her familiar face, soft voice, and kind eyes. And I remember her telling us Griffin had not only a VSD (ventricular septal defect aka a hole) and ASD (atrial septal defect aka another hole) but that he had something called SVAS (supravalvular aortic stenosis). I was absolutely devastated. I truly felt the million finite cracks splinter across the heart that had just been made whole only hours before. But with her reassuring demeanor and vast knowledge, she reiterated as many times as we needed that these were not uncommon issues and all fixable, that kids with these sorts of things grew up to live pretty normal lives and play sports and do all the things other children did, he would just need to be monitored. I tried to believe her, but my heart must have known somewhere deep down that wouldn't be the whole of the story because I just kept going back to my first thought at seeing him for the first time, "He's absolutely perfect, but he's different in a way I can't define but I know is telling me something isn't right."
She went on to explain that there were no peds cardiac surgeons in our hospital and we would have to go to Seattle or Salt Lake for Griffin's repairs and go within the next few days. We chose Seattle and by the time I made it down to see Griffin after our conversation, I was told the life flight crew would be there first thing in the morning to come and get him, and that Griffin needed to go ASAP after further testing. They may have told me more at that point, but I was so exhausted after giving birth and all the emotions and physical relocations of the day, I couldn't tell you for sure. I knew I needed sleep but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving him. I couldn't stop reflecting on how everything was normal 24 hours ago, my life was perfectly average and exciting and full of hope and life. 24 hours ago I was taking one last pregnancy photo and making silly jokes about his eviction notice. 12 hours ago I was holding him and anticipating taking him home to his brother and new pets.
It was only the fact that I had worked in that very NICU and knew the nurses that were with him, that I could finally force myself to leave his side and get some sleep. I knew I needed it if I was going to be able to accept the fact that when I woke up in the morning a whole new, terrifying, uncharted (for us personally) journey was going to begin. So I kissed his perfect, inexplicably wrinkled forehead and broad button nose, then touched mine to his, whispered my prayers for sweet dreams, and promised him that tomorrow we'd face the world and fix his heart together.
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