Back and Forth

 After our Houston trip, Stephen and I had initially decided to not go back to the cardiologist here, but after thinking about the situation and really needing to put Easton’s health first, decided to keep the appointment. As we are learning to navigate this path as parents, we find ourselves not just thinking about ourselves, but our son. To us, it seemed silly to keep bouncing back and forth between the cardiology team in Houston and in Fort Worth, but as we’ve quickly come to learn, life doesn’t always happen the way you want it too. We finally decided that if anything were to happen before 36 weeks, that the cardiologists here needed to have the most up-to-date information we had be given in Houston.

 Our FW appointment day, originally scheduled for Wednesday, all became seemingly frustrating when I got a phone call on Tuesday from the doctor’s office. Basically, everything we had done in Houston a week and half ago, was going to repeated here and billed to insurance (we have been blessed by wonderful insurance, thanks to my husband’s gracious employer), but were told that there was a high chance that our services for that day wouldn’t likely be covered. Going back and forth between the doctors, I became overwhelmed and was about to call it quits and just forgo the appointment. I called Stephen and said, “If you want this to happen, you make it work. I’m tired, stressed, and overwhelmed,” and the fearless leader that I married, fought the battle for me, no questions asked. He managed to land a consult with cardiologist and her nurse at 3:00 this past Thursday (don’t ask me how—he even said he was polite).

 When we sat down for the consult in the small purple box of a room, my heart immediately started to beat a little bit faster. I’d like to tell you that each time we meet with a doctor that it gets easier hearing them talk about Easton’s complexities and what I like to deem “uniqueness,” but it’s still hard. It’s hard to hear that your dreams of a simple pregnancy with routine check-ups, buying cute baby clothes, anxiously awaiting baby showers, and the list of “normal” pregnancy task goes on, comes to a screeching halt and your world is literally flipped up-side-down. Nothing prepares you for heartache, difficulties, or even hearing the many opinions of different doctors. What my heart aches to hear when I sit across from the many doctors is that our son is going to be ok and that he is such a fighter that he’s going to make it, but there’s no guarantee. It’s a tough pill to swallow and I don’t know if it’ll ever get easier to wait for the knock on the other side of the door, right as the doctor walks in.

 The cardiologist and her nurse didn’t make us wait too terribly long, and wasted no time as she started to talk about his “severe and complex” heart disease. She read the records from Houston, looked over the images, and said, “I don’t agree with their diagnosis.” Stephen and I looked at each other, both thinking to ourselves, “Of course they don’t agree…” Now, both cardiology teams agree that his heart is flipped, it’s in his right chest cavity (instead of his left) and that he is a single ventricle baby—meaning he only has three working chambers. Outside of those two things, the actual diagnoses differ; he still has heart disease, but the intricacies of his heart appear differently to different people. It’s funny (not really) but as we’re sitting there listening to the doctor say that she is confident that she is right and we know that the Houston team is confident that they are right, it all becomes seemingly clear that no two doctors can agree. Frustrating, nonetheless. However, it does give me a flicker of hope that God isn’t done molding our little peanut yet and that nothing is medically been deemed definitive.

 While both hospitals believe that they are 95% sure that their own diagnosis is correct, there’s a small part of my heart that knows that a miracle can still happen. I say a small part because I in no way proclaim that God is going to perform a mighty miracle on our little boy. Would I love to be able to say that definitively, sure, but what I can hold fast to is the truth that God is going to be good to us regardless if a miracle is performed. Whether or not God chooses to heal Easton before his arrival or either after his arrival, by surgery, or decides that his little life would be filled with many obstacles that far outweigh his bodily strength and he doesn’t live a long life on this Earth, I still know that He holds our future. I would think that every time I write about the different outcomes the acceptance gets easier, but it doesn’t and I don’t know if it ever will.

 The other day, as I was walking down the hall at school, some of my sweet students from last year saw me and yelled, “Mrs. Sparks, is Easton moving and kicking?” They all ran up and quickly started rubbing my belly and sure enough, being a ladies man, Easton started moving and kicking around. They were so sweet as they talked about holding him and babysitting for me (one day), that it breathed a breath of life back into my overworked mind. When I’m being over analytical about the “outcomes,” I’m so thankful for the sweet innocence of children (if you have kids you’re probably chuckling to yourself…) but it’s so true. Children aren’t plagued with the statistics and variability of every life situation; they just live life, embracing whatever comes their way. I’m trying to embrace that approach, to quit worrying about the future and asking myself if should I buy this outfit for the baby, but to simply have the faith and trust that He will continue to guide us on this journey and supply our needs.

 So, where do we go from here knowing that the hospitals don’t agree? We still go Houston because we have a peace about it being Easton’s hospital. As much as it pains the Fort Worth love and pride in me (to know that our son’s birth certificate will read Houston, Texas), we are putting our son’s needs and comfort before our own. I would love to stay here, surrounded by the friends (now our FW family) and be able to come back to our home every night, but for some reason God has placed Houston in our midst and we’re continuing to trust that it is the best place for our son.