A year ago today…

… I gave birth to a boy named Noah. And he changed our lives entirely.

I remember how I freaked out at the sight of me bleeding while in the toilet that morning before. I was just 35 weeks. I was so afraid that I might lose you.

I was rushed to TMC and was told that I’m delivering despite how hard the doctor tried to stop it from happening. My gynae was afraid that baby’s lungs will still be immature. While other mothers were worrying that their babies won’t turn out to be beautiful, I was so afraid that I might lose you.

You were whisked off from me after you’re born and was never brought to my room like how other new mothers experienced. My room was exceptionally quiet while I can hear the babies crying in other rooms. I missed you the very day you came out from me.

I was discharged while you were still in the NICU. I pump and pump like a cow just to give you my most precious liquid gold. At day 3 I received a phone call from your daddy saying the doctors diagnosed you with a heart condition and will require a heart surgery to fix. I stop my pump, my heart stop pumping for awhile too. I was so afraid that I might lose you.

I rushed out of the house, despite me still doing confinement just to take a glimpse of you before the surgeon met up with us and rush you to Gleneagles for the surgery. I barely held you closed to me twice since birth. I was so afraid that I might lose you.

I remember how I cried and cried, blaming myself for causing you pain although no one can explain how a rare CHD will happen to you when both your daddy and I were perfectly healthy. Did I ate the wrong food? Did I took the wrong medication while I fell sick during pregnancy? I’ve never seen your daddy more worried and upset. We were both so afraid to lose you.

The surgery went well and things were slowly picking up when you suddenly turn restless and drink poorly at 3rd month. We rushed you to the cardiologist and only to be told that you need another surgery immediately due to stenosis. I was shaking so badly. I was so afraid that I might lose you.

Every re-surgery is harder than the previous one. No one can understand how I feel about seeing you go thru a 2nd surgery within such a short period of time. It felt like someone is cutting me open twice. I was so afraid that I might lose you.

The outcome of the 2nd surgery wasn’t perfect. But we didn’t expect you to have a normal heart like other normal babies. We just want you to survive. We didn’t want to lose you.

At 6th month, we were told things got worsen again. We seek 2nd and 3rd opinion. Things were a little different from before but no one can exactly pin point where. We hang on to our faith that your vessels will grow as you put on weight. But we face another issue of you not feeding well. You refuse to drink milk when you’re awake. You doesn’t really like taking solid either. Every feeding time is a challenge. Despite us consulting the feeding clinic, things were moving so slowly.

We resort to let you do a CT scan when you turn 10th month.

Initially the cardiologist told us he didn’t think the surgeon were able to do anything about your condition. We should concentrate on taking care of you and let you have a fulfilling life and pray that there will be a miracle. But how can anyone expect me to look at you and feel nothing after knowing that I might lose you any time? I almost lose my mind. I told your dad if I were to lose you, I wouldn’t wanna live too. Or if I manage to stay alive, I will leave this place and never wanna come back or come close to anyone or anything that will remind me of you.

We bug the surgeon to look at your CT scans everyday. He finally met up with us to discuss about your condition. I am thankful that he didn’t wanna give up on you. At that point of time, I was dying to let you go thru the surgery to let you stay alive. He decided to op on you almost immediately.

It felt like deja vu everytime I sat beside you in the PICU looking at all the tubes inserted in you. I don’t know how I manage my emotion everytime. Maybe all I needed was to see you open your eyes and smile at me like how you do every morning. You’ve no idea how much your smile meant to me. It’s like water instantly putting out fire. Or heat melting the iceberg.

The 3rd surgery indeed was more complicated than before. Your veins at one side of the lung disappeared. So technically speaking you’re only left with one side of the lung functioning well right now. My mind went blank when we were told of this news. How could that even happen? What will happen from now on then? Although we were assured that many people survived with just one lung, it still hit me very badly. I asked, is it possible for me to give one side of my lung to him? Obviously no.

While every parents were busy feeling troubled of where to bring their kids to, what to buy for them, which school to enroll them into, everyday I’m still living in the fear of losing you.

Almost every night I was jolted awake by my fear, searching for you in the dark to make sure you’re still breathing. While all parents hope that their babies sleep thru the night, your daddy and I took turns to wake up 3 hourly to feed you so you can have enough calories intake everyday.

Although there are times I felt so helpless and desperate especially when you reject your food and I started to scold you, telling you how much I regretted wanting a child because you took away all my freedom and time, you know I didn’t mean it. I love you so much I don’t think I will ever love another kid of my own the same way. Many times I still find myself looking at you in awe, giving myself an imaginary pat on the back for giving birth to such a beautiful baby.

God didn’t give you a perfect heart but I hope he give you everything else.

You’re 1 today and I hope you will eat well, grow well and be strong despite going thru so much during the 1st year of your life. I’m proud to call you my son because you’re the most amazing warrior I’ve met. I love you even before I met you and will love you till my last breath.

Happy birthday to you my darling boy. 🙂