
Ironically, this is a post I began 8 months ago. It was nearing Valentine's Day, and Knox had just gotten a "heartbreaker" outfit from Old Navy. I had trouble with the computer and uploading the pictures, so I never actually wrote anything to accompany the picture and title above. Now, this picture is so very tongue in cheek for the post I need to write today.
Let me start with this evening. FINALLY, this week our family had a productive day, relaxing afternoon, and like so many other nights, we topped it off with a trip to the local Mexican resturant. Sounds silly, but the Mexican resturant has come to represent an important place in our lives. I have, over the years, celebrated birthdays, looked at engagement rings, starred into future daddy's eyes, cried for children that might have been, made important decisions, mourned, laughed-all over chips and salsa. Dan and I even chose to watch George W's speech on September 11, 2001 through the thick glass bottoms of La Siesta's margarita glasses. FINALLY, this week, I got my long over due margarita that I had been waiting for since Wednesday afternoon.
See, Wednesday was Knox's doctor appointment at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital. When he was 4 days old, the pediatrician noticed upon his "exit exam" from the hospital, a heart murmur. We were directed to our regular physician that following Tuesday, and the pediatric cardiologist by Tuesday afternoon. We were lucky enough to get the Chief of the department as our doc. Chief of anything at Vanderbilt CH equals pretty darn smart in my book. We were assured then, and 3 months after, that the murmur was a VSD, a ventricular septal defect, in lamens terms, a "hole" in the heart. Of all congential heart defects, this was the one to have if you had to pick. Most of the time these defects "often close on their own" as did mine when I was a baby. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear. Until Wednesday. We went through the same rigamoroll as the last time except this time, the doc said see you in 6 months, and we will most likely be scheduling open heart surgery. I'm sorry, did you just say OPEN HEART SURGERY? Surely, you must be mistaken. See, my son is just a year old and although he's small, he's fine, more than fine-great. Turns out, he did in fact say surgery, even though to be honest, what I heard between then and us walking out is patchy-mainly because I was fighting the crocodile tears that were welling in my eyes and trying to play it cool. Apparently Knox's hole isn't closing afterall. His lungs are recieving twice as much blood-one side of his heart working twice as hard as the other, because it has a leak. And unless we want him to continue down the road towards high blood pressure and enevitable heart strain, he must undergo the surgery to patch his little heart up so it can beat normally.
God is wonderful in that he gently laid me into the hands of good friends Thursday, Friday and today. He is also good in connecting me to those who will be on a similar path and have the very same fears I will have. And, I think he knows that mentally, this will be almost unbearable for me. Hence the Mexican resturant. Hence all the friends he is surrounding me with. Hence the 3 day trip next week to a sunny locale that Dan and I have been wishing for.
So, long story short, my heart will most certainly break from having to endure the discomfort of my baby, but my heart break will be in order to fix his. Being a parent is bittersweet, isn't it? For now, we have to wait 6 months before hearing anything else. Keep his little heart in mind, would you?