Today was a pretty massive day in the grand scheme of things. Our beautiful little daughter was scheduled to undergo a surgical procedure which should hopefully get her off the ventilator and breathing on her own.
We left home before 7am and made our way up to Southampton. I was becoming increasingly nervous, and was glad that Willow was first on the surgeon’s list. I couldn’t cope with waiting all day.
Shortly after we arrived, the surgeon introduced himself to us. With his floppy-haired good looks and slightly exotic Mediterranean accent, he reminded us of a Greek Hugh Grant. He took us to the parents’ room to brief us on the operation and get the all important parents’ consent. He told us how he was going to do the op and the potential risks of doing it. There are two main risks – 1) that the lungs might get damaged and 2) that she might bleed to death. If the duct was to be ruptured during the procedure, there was not a lot of hope. These babies only have 80ml of blood in them, so it wouldn’t take long to lose it all. “All or nothing” were the words he used. So I signed the form and went to see Willow and give her a kiss. Leela was too upset to go and see her, so I thought I’d better.
We didn’t want to hang around in the parents’ room, so we went out to the car to await the news. The wait for the phone call was the worst twenty minutes of our lives. It’s very difficult to describe how we were feeling, but the overwhelming reaction was that Willow was not going to survive it. Both of us thought this without actually telling each other. It is the most horrifying thought possible – that your child is going to die. Never having children before, this was all very new to us – but it’s amazing how you suddenly just love these babies more than anything in the world.
The minutes ticked by very slowly, and eventually my phone rang. A massive wave of relief and utter joy swept over me as the nurse said that the operation went well. I gave Leela the thumbs up as soon as I heard the positive news and she collapsed in happy tears in front of me. We were so amazingly relieved we couldn’t quite believe it. From the feeling of dread two minutes ago, we were now crying with happiness. Willow was obviously still a very sick little baby, but this was one huge step in the right direction.
We went over to the main hospital for a coffee and a muffin while the nurses made our daughter comfortable again. The rest of the day was spent sitting with Willow and visiting the main hospital again. Southampton General’s weird airport style entrance and main corridor is a very interesting place to visit for people-watching. Patients are wheeled out with their drips as they go outside for a fag, and the swarms of very young doctors and students mill about talking like doctors and students.
We saw Stanley in the afternoon and he came out of his box for a cuddle. All in all, a positive day.
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