.

This moment is all we have, and then the next although,  It seems like remember the moment Sarah was born vividly,  she was born very quickly and initially the medical staff put her blue tinge down to the rapid birth. My hubby commented on the difference between my son who had been jaundiced at birth so was quite yellow in appearance, saying “we have had a yellow one and now we have a blue one!’I can still remember the moment my daughter was born, it was 3.55 am on the 26th September.  A Wednesday morning.

Unfortunately, Sarah didn’t get pinker as the minutes passed by but instead began to turn a deeper shade of blue. Tests throughout the day confirmed that she had a very serious congenital heart defect. Transposition of the great vessels, which was described as her heart being the wrong way round.

For some weird reason I had worried throughout my pregnancy that something was wrong so initially I was relieved to find that Sarah had all her finger, toes and looked ‘normal’.  My initial gut feeling was now coming true, Sarah was indeed a very poorly baby.  She was given little chance of survival and one memory I have back then is of not wanting to tell anybody the sad news.

Throughout the day, we received flowers, gifts and cards and I still remember talking to my Dad and Hubby about the Doctors suggesting we had Sarah baptised and then their response seemed to be that I was over reacting and that she would be ok.  The daft thing is that YES, I did feel that she would be ok, but not because of anything the Doctors, Midwives or another medical person said, but more from an innate knowing inside myself. Maybe it was that uncanny way we have to somehow convince yourself that everything will be ok when really it isn’t ok but that would be denial and I am sure I knew exactly what I was dealing with back then.

I still had to be the bearer of bad news, I might have been wrong, so I repeated the words from the Doctors and inside kept up my own belief that she would survive.  I remember a conversation with one particular midwife who seemed to think I was in denial,  she couldn’t seem to understand my strength and positivity.

I knew the circumstances, I saw my baby be pricked with a needle every 15 x minutes, I saw her little head full of bruises from the canulas’, till there was no vein left to use which meant inserting a central line into her

neck.  I saw her shaking from the fits that raged at her tiny body after a while, I held her while she vomited, I stared back into her little eyes and face that seemed to frown and ask me what as happening, I tried to convey an understanding in my touch and through my own eyes.  So that she could maybe feel at least some comfort from the love I had for her.

I remember at just three weeks old, the words of a senior consultant.  We had spent the weekend attempting to find answers, asking staff what was going on as Sarah’s head was twice the size it should have been as she held water, her body was floppy with little sign of life.  By Monday morning when we spoke to the consultant his words were that “he was very disappointed with Sarah”!!! He was blaming her for not responding in a way he expected.

I now know the guy was just doing his job in the only way he knew how, I know that he could have learned from a few lessons in dealing with anxious relatives or enhancing his communication skills.  In any event, we left the hospital that day and found ourselves on a bench overlooking an expanse of moorland.  Watching the sheep, feeling the breeze, hearing the odd sound of cattle in the back ground seemed to dull the pain inside for me. I remember Tim my hubby being Angry and saying, ‘Why Us”, when there are so many people in the world who have children and don’t want them, why do we have to have a poorly baby?”  My response back then that we were chosen, that we were special, that we were in a position financially to look after Sarah and give her everything she needed.  I don’t know where the words or the thinking came from, but I knew we would cope.. somehow!

It was three months later that Sarah first experienced the outside world, after having bowel surgery, suffering from septicaemia and other complications, she defied all logic and was still alive!

I coped by learning to live in the moment.  I learned that This Moment is all that we have.

I took her home on the 20th December 1984 where she was greeted by her big brother, Adam , who was two years old and wise beyond his years.  The perfect brother who looked after his sister even though she challenged him with stealing his toys and accusing him of all sorts of wrongful doings as she grew up.

From the moment she arrived home, Sarah seemed to thrive, she had been given a diet of disgusting pregestamil, as she was supposedly allergic to my milk, and any other milk.  I am not sure about the diagnosis even to this day, but I did as I was told back then!.

We had a wonderful family time for 15 months, always knowing in the back of our minds that Sarah was ‘not out of the wood’s’ yet.  She couldn’t survive beyond two years old without major heart surgery.

The day Sarah was born, the Doctors had completed a simple procedure which gave us some borrowed time in which to allow Sarah time to grow stronger.  This involved inserting a tube into her groin and moving it up to her heart, This tube had a balloon at the end of it.  The tube was then inserted in-between the septum of her heart.  When in place, the balloon was blown up and then pushed back and forth through the septum to tear it open.  This is how Sarah survived, just be the blood being all mixed in together.

On the 27th November 1985, We took Sarah to Killingbeck Hospital for her Heart Surgery, known as the “Sennings Procedure”, named after the doctor who invented the correction.  I carried her down to the theatre the following morning at 8.30am where “Fonzie” the porter was waiting to carry her into surgery, one of the hardest moments of my life as we knew that for every two children that went into surgery, the odds were that only one came out alive!

By 6pm that day we were allowed to see her in intensive care, she had survived the op! I will always remember Duncan Walker with his Scottish accent holding up her pink toes for us all to see and commenting on their lovely pink colour.

Life has been an interesting journey for Sarah and for everyone who loves her, she has had her fair share of ups and downs, challenges and worries as well as lots of happy moments.  Just like the rest of us really.

She always looks on the bright side of things,  keeps on smiling and I love her just for being her and

teaching me to appreciate each moment of life.

We are all very excited and a little anxious just now as Sarah is 24 weeks pregnant with her second child.  My first Grandchild Harvey, Sarah’s son, is now seven years old.  She was told not to expect to be a Mum so we are all doubly blessed!

 

Where there is life there is hope!

Live in the moment, because this moment is all that we have!

 

Do you convince yourself in a positive way or a negative way?

Do you appreciate the moment or find yourself getting depressed about the passed? thinking of how things could have been different? could be different? if only you or someone else did something different?

or

Do you worry about the future all the time?  about what might happen?

My job as a coach and hypnotherapist is to help people update their thinking so you can be ok whatever circumstances you find yourself in.

And I would like to add that most of the things we worry about never happen anyway, so why worry? 🙂