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| Iver, two years ago on his 3-month birthday. |
I LOVE Facebook flashback pictures for obvious reasons (hello cutie pants!) but if I'm being honest, when I see these perfect pictures of Iver from the weeks leading up to his emergency, I am hit with anxiety like a ton of bricks to the chest. I started writing all of this on Facebook, and thought it was really a long journal entry or blog post. So here I am once again, after all this time. Just needed to get this out!
How could we have possibly known that his aortic arch had re-narrowed? He looked like a healthy baby. He acted like a healthy baby. He was knocking those milestones out of the park, despite all he had been through a few short months before. We had no idea what we were about to face, that I would watch my 4-month-old baby go into pre-arrest. That would would become terrified beyond what we could ever imagine.
And then, I remember. With almost disbelief I remember how we made a last minute decision to drive to Edmonton to celebrate Juliet's birthday. I remember how on our two hour drive to the city, Iver's little cough was suddenly a really scary sounding cough. I remember him crying and crying in his car seat, which was so unlike him! I remember not wanting to spoil Juliet's birthday by going to the hospital, but feeling that nudge that I really should go get him checked out. I remember feeling guilty about ruining our fun plans.
I remember seeing the infant chest x-ray contraption for the first time, and the nurse telling me about how most babies cry really hard, but the occasional baby would fall asleep in there. I remember laughing about it and telling her that if Iver did that, I would need to take a picture for Mark. And then I remember thinking he did fall asleep. I remember his arms going limp and his head dropping to his left side. I remember starting to laugh about him being one of those few babies who was actually falling asleep, until the x-ray tech suddenly ran towards him and started unbuckling him out of the medieval chest x-ray contraption. I remember the nurse grabbing him and running down the hallway and me, running after her, asking what was going on. I remember not knowing what pre-arrest meant. I remember feeling guilty for laughing about him falling asleep, or at least, I thought he was. I remember a swarm of doctors and nurses surrounding Iver in the emergency room. I was standing behind them, feeling helpless. I remember hearing about resuscitative drugs and prepping for CPR. I remembered that Mark and the kids were off playing at the indoor playground.
Then I really don't remember anything else until he was settled. The resuscitative drugs had worked. I was numb. I then remember calling Mark at some point. I remember asking if I could get a breast pump because I was so full of milk. I remember Mark and the kids being there, and finding out that the quick x-ray photo showed that Iver's heart looked too big. I remember Mark and the kids leaving again, and not long after that, moving up to the Pediatric Cardiac ICU once Iver had been admitted.
I felt safe up there. We had been there before and knew how incredible the team was. I remember feeling so hungry. I hadn't eaten since the morning. Iver was stable, and in good hands. I took the opportunity to run downstairs for a bite to eat. I had bought my food and sat down for only a moment before I saw the PCICU number pop up on my phone, calling me. "You need to come up here right away. He went into pre-arrest arrest again." No. No no no no no! I don't remember if I waited for an elevator or ran up the stairs. But I do remember running into the ICU and seeing a flat line on his monitor. Like a movie scene, a couple of the nurses rushed towards me embracing me, and reassured me that he was fine and the monitor wasn't hooked up for a brief moment as they were doing something. The resuscitative drugs had worked again. I remember feeling guilty that I went to get food. That I wasn't there. He could have died and I wouldn't have been there.
Fast forward to finding out that his aortic arch repair had re-narrowed from scar tissue, and that RSV and all the crying had pushed him over the edge. He could have gone into arrest, every so quietly in his car seat. We would have thought he was sleeping. But, he didn't. God orchestrated our circumstances, through whispers and planting ideas in our heads to go to Edmonton on that specific day. Despite my guilt about ruining Juliet's birthday plans, he continued to nudge me to the point where I couldn't ignore it: I needed to take Iver to emerge. He saved my son.
And this, friends, is what goes through my mind when I see sweet pictures of Iver at this age. All in about 2 seconds of what feels like flashes of movie scenes that quickly run through my mind. And I feel like I can't share his story enough, and point to my incredible God. God still has plans for Iver on this Earth. I don't know why he was born this way, but I do believe that God cries with me, and that He can turn anything into something beautiful.
I also want to take this opportunity to thank everyone and anyone (because I know there are so many people who don't know us personally) who have prayed for Iver, or helped our family in any way over these past 2 years. It's hard knowing that I could never repay you for what you have done. It's overwhelming trying to remember everyone who has been there in some way for us, and to write personalized messages. I wish I could, and humbly ask that you would accept this as my most sincere thank you. I pray that God blesses each of you for your generosity and prayers. We are overwhelmed with gratefulness.
Ok wow! I was not planning to do this today, but here we are. A nap time well spent.
Rebecca.
