Journal-I’m a ticking time bomb and I need a plan ASAP

I’m at a loss.  I’ve requested to transfer to a hospital that specializes in children’s heart issues.  But no one from the hospital calls me.  Six weeks go by… I don’t know where to turn.  The perinatal practice seems so chill, and yet now I know that I’m a ticking time bomb and I need a plan ASAP.

Journal-One more thing…

Yet another session of reclining.  This time I’m with my OBGYN who delivered Breelyn and assisted with removal of the pregnancies that ended when a heartbeat stopped.  She’s been though it with me. And now she’s telling me that she sees something. And it could be a big thing.  She mentions placenta acreta.  It looks like my placenta is growing into my organs.  My doctor doesn’t sugar coat it.  It could be deadly for me and the baby.  Are you kidding me?  I’ve come this far.  My baby has a heart defect and now my body isn’t giving him the safe home that he needs and oh yes, we could both die.

Journal-Olympian Shaun White

Have you heard of the Olympian Shaun White my doctor asks?  Shawn has Tetralogy of Fallot.  Woah I think, well, ok.  Shaun has done alright. Maybe this will be okay after all.  Will my kid be an Olympian?  Probably not.   But, this may not be the death sentence that I’d been picturing.

When I write death sentence, I know that it seems dramatic.  But that’s my reality.  One day I had two healthy daughters and the next day one was dead.  My brain doesn’t offer me the luxury of in between.  I’ve never had a sick child. I’ve never had to fight through anything.  I wasn’t offered the luxury of coming out the other side in victory. My child was dead- and my heart felt that this new child would die too.

So I didn’t celebrate.  My family knew of the pregnancy and its challenges but I didn’t tell anyone else.  My body wasn’t embracing pregnancy.  I didn’t look pregnant. Apart from greeting each and every morning with a vomit session, I didn’t feel pregnant.  And I was soon to find out why I wasn’t looking pregnant.

Journal-Unrecognized number

The phone rang.  Unrecognized number. My heart stopped.  Side note- on the day that Breelyn died, I received a call from a number that I didn’t recognize- I ignored it. It turned out to the be the hospital trying to reach me. Thus- any unrecognized number on my phone results in a mini panic for me.  I answer the call, and after confirming my identity, the caller tells me that the test results are negative.  My baby doesn’t have DiGeorge’s.  He “just” has a congenital heart defect.