Echo Cardiogram

Today Aidan had an echo cardiogram. It wasn't his first. He actually had his first echo when he was just a few days old.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Trevor and I had just experienced the miracle of being parents. Here he was. The tiny little boy we wondered about all these months. What would he look like? Who would he act like? Would he have hair? Be big? Have dimples? Finally he made his debut. On December 31st, nonetheless.

He was perfect. Beautiful. We were exhausted. The next day we were all packed up, ready to be discharged. We were excited to head home with our little boy. We could show him the room we painted for him. A list of attributes we hoped for him stenciled on the wall. We would show him how Daddy installed a special dimmer light switch so Mommy could check on him in the middle of the night. We would show him his big fluffy dog named Kennedy and the toy box that Daddy put together just for him.

The pediatrician came in to check over Aidan before we were released. We had the car seat ready with big fluffy blankets for the chilly weather. The doctor laid him out on the hospital bed. He did that hip-swivel action they do on babies. He listened to his heart. He checked a few more things. He listened to his heart again.

We waited.

He looked up at us. "I'm sorry, but you're not going to be able to leave yet. I hear a murmur in his heartbeat. There's something wrong. He could have a serious defect that wasn't picked up on your ultrasound, or it may be a simple problem."

Our world came tumbling down around our ankles. I tried to put on a brave face and hold back the tears. Over exaggerating? Maybe. But this was my baby. I just got him. He's perfect. Now you're telling me there might be something seriously wrong?

We had to leave the room so they could take a chest x-ray. The room that was full of well-wishers just yesterday. The room we had been celebrating in just a few hours ago. The room that Trevor and I sat in as the clock struck midnight. A new year began as we marveled at our firstborn son.

We stood in the hallway outside the door of our room, but we might as well had been miles away. I could hear his little newborn cry through the doorway. My arms felt empty. My heart felt heavy. It was only for minutes, but it felt like hours.

The day wore on as we were moved to the pediatrics ward for the remainder of our stay. We were told that they wouldn't know anything until we met with a Pediatric Cardiologist and had an echo cardiogram. We were warned that this would take a while since it was a holiday. Until then, Aidan had to be hooked up to various monitors in case he went into cardiac arrest or had other problems because of a possible heart condition.

Trevor and I were so young. We didn't know what we were doing. Our nerves were frayed. We were overwhelmed. Together we cried and prayed to God that he would guide us through this. That our baby would be okay. Every few minutes Aidan would flinch and one of his monitors became dislodged, setting the alarm off and sending us into a panic. I didn't think that night would ever end.

Soon we became accustomed to the alarms and I began to wonder how effective they would be in the event that he actually had trouble. We started learning how to restlessly sleep through it all. Twenty-four hours passed with no word. Finally at 5:30 the following evening we were taken to the cardiology wing to perform the echo. A Pediatric Cardiologist from Seattle was there by web cam.

We sat silently while watching the technician at work. After ten minutes or so the Cardiologist spoke to us:

"Your son is going to be okay."

I quickly released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I couldn't hold back the sobs now. The tears of relief were streaming down both mine and Trevor's faces.

Aidan has a Ventricular Septal Defect (VSD). It is the most common of heart defects and the least serious. It occurs in about 4 of 1000 births. It's a small hole between the left and right ventricles of the heart. 90% of these will close in the baby's first year of life as the heart grows larger.

Aidan's hasn't closed yet. Our wonderful family doctor isn't worried because Aidan is thriving physically. He's such a healthy, big boy. He has to go for occasional echo cardiograms to ensure that everything is okay.

Today Trevor took Aidan to his appointment. He came home bouncing through the door telling me all about it. "The lady had books for Daddy to read to me! She had a Critter book! Then she gave me a sticker AND a sucker! I already ate my sucker though."

I laughed and marveled at the blessing God had given us. The little boy that terrorizes his little sister. The boy who loses his DVDs and creates a path of destruction everywhere he goes. The boy who colors on our beige couch with an ink pen.

The boy who goes around the house singing church songs at the top of his lungs. The boy who says "Mommy, I want to give you a hug and a kiss because I like you." The boy who always wants to help when I make biscuits or cookies. The boy who isn't too cool to cuddle yet.

He's amazing.

He's our little boy.

As I sit here I think about the past four years and I realize how much we've changed. How much we've grown. And I am overwhelmed at the goodness and faithfulness of God. I'd like to say it's all because of me. Or Trevor, even. But it's not. It's because God didn't give up on us. God was with us, guiding us every step of the way.

I remember that long night at the hospital while we were waiting to find out what was wrong with Aidan. My parents were far away. Trevor's parents were home for the night. My best friend was out of town. Our pastor was out of town. We were completely alone.

I think God arranged it that way.

Because he met us there.

His love for us is overwhelming. If anyone knew what we were feeling, it was him. Who else can understand a mother or father's love like He does? A parent's heartache? We learned a lesson that night on God's faithfulness. His provision. I truly learned how to cast my cares and anxieties on Him.

I think that's the difference. I've learned to put my trust in God wholeheartedly. I've learned to trust that His plan is the perfect outcome even when it makes no sense to me. When we learn to give up what we can't control and submit ourselves into the hands of our faithful Creator- that's when life becomes beautiful.