The hardest thing not to do is fear.
A week ago, we found out our little Ladybug has a hole in her heart. The devastation we felt was mercifully eased by prayer, priesthood blessings, temple attendance, and further educating ourselves on the condition.
We were feeling optimistic. At peace. Everything was going to be okay, whether it was through a literal miracle or the miracle of modern medicine. Our little girl will live a long, healthy, normal life.
Then we went to the perinatal specialist. I thought more of my worries would be eased, more questions answered. At the appointment, the doctor told me there was a 10%-40% chance that because our little one has this heart defect, she may also have a chromosomal or genetic defect as well.
I feel like I have a hole in my own heart. I'm trying SO hard to keep optimistic like before, to wear a smile and remember that every other organ in her body including her brain, limbs, lungs, and umbilical cord are all functioning beautifully. I'm trying to trust in the Lord, to remember that my baby's precious life is in His perfect, loving hands... to remember that it is His will and not mine that will be done.
And yet it feels unbearably selfish to want a healthy, pretty little girl of my own. I should be grateful to bear a child at all (it took us almost two years of no prevention to finally get pregnant). I feel like I don't deserve it. And I have to beat down the rising envy in my heart when I hear of how wonderful everyone else's pregnancies are going.
I'm trying. I'm praying. I'm hoping. And all I can do is wait. It's like trying to take a deep breath with a huge heavyweight sitting on my chest.
Here's some photos of our little sweet pea:
This one is at about 8-9 weeks.
And here she is at 16 weeks, when we found it she was a she.
And here's the Ladybug at 28 weeks. Those 3D ultrasounds are AMAZING!
The dark spots on her head are due to the imaging machine. Her head is fine.
So here we go with the next processes: a pediatric cardiologist, who will hopefully help us to figure more of this out. And some genetic testing to rule out any other problems.
Thank goodness the Man has been learning about anatomy and physiology and all that great stuff. He can understand all the crazy medical jargon they're swapping around during these doctor's appointments. And thank goodness he's also my rock and my anchor during all we're going through. He's always been so much more patient and positive than me.
In the midst of all my frustration, pain, and worry, this I do know: a broken heart can heal. Whether it's mine or my husband's or our little girl's.
The hardest part is waiting for it to heal.