A Mother's Perspective

I came across this poem a few days ago and just felt compelled to share it. I can give you statistics and facts (as I've been doing all week via Twitter), and I can probably give you a better lecture on the human heart than your biology teacher did. But, I thought this poem perfectly expressed what I can't always tell you. The feelings and emotions that come along with being the mama of a heart baby are not easy to communicate, and can even be misunderstood. I hope this offers a little more insight into my heart.

You passed me in the shopping mall
(You read my faded tee).
You tapped me on the shoulder, then asked
"What's a CHD?"
I could quote terminology,
There's stats that I could give.
But I would rather share with you
A mother's perspective.

What is it like to have a child with a CHD?
It’s Lasix, aspirin, Captopril.
It’s wondering, "Lord what’s your will?"
It’s monitors and oxygen tanks,
It’s a constant reminder to always give thanks.
It’s feeding tubes, calories, needed weight gain.
It’s the drama of eating, and yes it’s insane!

It’s the first time I held him
(I’d waited so long).
It’s knowing that I need to help him grow strong.
It’s making a hospital home for awhile,
It’s seeing my reward in every smile.
It’s checking his sats as the feeding pump’s beeping.
It’s knowing that there is just no time for sleeping.

It’s caths, x-rays and boo boos to kiss.
It’s normalcy I sometimes miss.
It’s asking, "Do his nails look blue?"
It’s cringing inside at what he’s been through.
It’s dozens of calls to his pediatrician
(She knows me by name; I’m a mom on a mission).
It’s winters homebound and hand sanitizer.
It’s knowing this journey has made me much wiser.

It’s watching him sleeping, his breathing is steady.
It’s surgery day and I’ll never be ready.
It’s handing him over
(I’m still not prepared),
It’s knowing that his heart must be repaired.
It’s waiting for news on that long stressful day.
It’s praying, it’s hoping, that he’ll be okay.

It’s the wonderful friends with whom I’ve connected,
It’s the bond that we share; it was so unexpected.
It’s that long faded scar down my child’s small chest.
It’s touching it gently and knowing we’re blessed.
It’s watching him chasing a small butterfly.
It’s the moment I realized I’ve stopped asking "Why?"

It’s the snowflakes that fall on a cold winter’s day,
(They remind me of those who aren’t with us today).
It’s a brave little boy who loved Thomas the train,
Or a special heart bear, or a frog in the rain.It’s the need to remember we’re all in this plight.
It’s their lives that remind us we still need to fight!
It’s pushing ahead amidst every sorrow.
It is finding the strength to have hope for tomorrow.


-by Stephanie Husted