The day of the surgery arrived a day that will be forever etched into my brain. Tuesday 15th September 2015 I sat by my boys bedside from 3:30 I wanted every second I could get with him before he had to go to theatre. I sat there watching him sleep wondering if I would ever see him again. I draw the curtains around his bed because I want him all to myself and I don’t want anyone to see me cry. The surgeon comes at around half 7 I’d cried from 3:30am and I still wasn’t done. I cried the entire way holding my baby boy in my arms carrying him to the operating theatre. I didn’t want to go in because I knew I had to leave him there and walk away, I had no choice it was that or eventually his heart wouldn’t cope anymore.
I laid him down and they gave him the anaesthetic and he fell asleep. I held his hand and kissed his head and told him I loved him. Now I’m not a religious person but I prayed that it wouldn’t be the last time I ever get to tell him that. I walked out and it broke me I cried harder then I had ever cried before. I didn’t want to leave my precious baby with strangers he needed his mummy.
By 1pm I still hadn’t heard anything, it had felt like days not hours. I wanted my baby back I needed to see he was ok. 1:30 pm came a knock at the door that the operation had gone well and as soon as picu were ready we could go and see him. I was so anxious to see him not at all scared my boy was alive that’s all I could have hoped for. I walked into picu and relief washed over me the machines didn’t scare me I was just so happy to see him I ignored all the machines and kissed him.
I couldn’t wait for my first cuddle with him after his surgery, he seemed so fragile I was scared of breaking him but I wanted my baby back in my arms. It had been days since I last held him and the moment he was passed to me it was like the first time I’d ever seen him just that rush of love came over me and I didn’t want to put him back down. After 4 days his character was coming back he was playing and smiling my boy was getting better. He spent almost a week on picu before going back to the ward.
It was an extremely tough time and I didn’t cope well my anxiety rose every time they shut down picu because of ward rounds and life threatening situations with other babies. You always thought to yourself “is that my baby?” Or “thank god it’s not my baby” It was so hard going between wanting to spend time with my eldest son and going back n forth to picu to see the youngest. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep that much I just went to and from each boy for a week before we were finally allowed home.
It was the hardest and longest 2 weeks of my life I had never felt so alone and out of control. I had never been so terrified of anything before in my life and nothing will ever come close to how I felt back then. I was so glad to be back home but my anxiety didn’t go away I still live with it 5 months on.