She had finally arrived. She was only three days late, but the three days on top of the nine months of anticipation seemed like an eternity. What a surprise- a girl!! She was so beautiful- so much hair. I already knew love on a new level after about the first minute.
While in the hospital, the pediatrician came in the first day and said she was perfectly healthy. The next day, another pediatrician came in. She took a long time listening to my baby daughter’s heart. She said she thought my daughter had a heart murmur. I asked, “How common is it that you find heart murmurs?” She replied, “About 1 in 100.” I felt like my own heart was going to stop.
The potential of the loss of a healthy child that I felt so much love for felt unbearable. It especially felt that way in the postpartum period in which I was exhausted, and my hormones were trying to get to a new normal. It took me back.
It took me back to when I worked as an oncology social worker. A position I held up until I was pregnant with my daughter. There were so many losses along the way in that process. At the time of diagnosis, it was the loss of a healthy child, later, loss of hair, for some loss of life.
The kids were amazingly resilient throughout the entire process. The parents’ grief was almost palpable. I would sit with some for long lengths of time trying to sort it out. But that day in the hospital with my own daughter was the closest I had ever come to understanding the depth of it.
Perhaps the most difficult thing to understand is the loss of a child. I have to say though, when I worked with these families, it was the most spiritual experience in my life. It is indescribable. One little girl that was dying was reaching her hands up into the air in her sleep.
The kids that I got to know, some which are here today, and some which are not, to me are little angels. When a child becomes ill, so many people are touched. It affects the whole community- the school, neighbors, and sometimes well beyond with stories of strength and resiliency. Parents hug their children a little tighter each night as a result. The community moves beyond the routine to reach out to the family. Love and gratitude become abundant where perhaps it had become a little lost.
Good news for our family. My daughter was diagnosed with a very slight heart murmur which she eventually outgrew. She is a very active nine-year-old with two busy little brothers. As I have written this, I see the faces of the kids I knew. Now I am off to hug my kids tightly, and I hope you will do the same.
