The Best, Worst Day of My Life: part IV

To be honest, after the Dr. left the room I had a full blown panic attack.  Not about the PPCM, but about not being able to have any more babies.  I know that sounds crazy, but I think that I was in full-on denial about the heart failure at that point. As the panic attack hit me, however, I quickly realized how my body was reacting, and it wasn't good.  I remember closing my eyes, so tired, but absolutely terrified to fall asleep.  I have never told anyone this, but in that moment, I felt sure I would not make it.  I was so tired, so weak, and I couldn't breathe. The only thing I could do was pray. Pray to God and beg him to not take me away from this little boy so new to the world. It broke my heart that he might never know who I was, might never remember the way I smell, or what my voice sounded like. And I know that everyone else was thinking the same thing, though none dared voice it. But I saw the fear in my husband's face, and my OB/GYN couldn't come into the room without my mom dragging him outside, demanding answers.  My oxygen level became the sole topic of conversation, especially at night, as the machine I was hooked to had an alarm that went off every time I fell asleep because I wasn't getting enough oxygen unless I consciously focused on my breathing.

It was a bleak couple of days. People were constantly coming in and out to visit me, including a family friend who brought me communion. I don't remember much else, since I was pretty out of it, but I remember the look of worry and pain on my husband's face as he spent his days alternating between being with me and going down to the maternity ward to see our son. In the beginning I was inconsolable, until the amazing nursing staff formed a plan and began pretty much sneaking the baby up to the ICU for 30 minutes at a time so I could feed and hold him  (I will NEVER forget that special gift they gave me).

(Logan and I in ICU)

With prayers, my family, and my baby lifting me up, I slowly began getting better.  The doctors were somewhat surprised about my turn around, and I was even able to go home on Christmas day!

I am happy to say that 4 years later, my EF is back up to 60% and I am considered fully recovered.  Even more importantly, new research suggests that subsequent pregnancies might be possible for women who fully recover.  It has been a long journey, full of questions about why this happened, and I don't know if my future will include another baby.  But I do know that I feel blessed to be around for my son, to see him growing up. And I know that no matter what, the Lord is watching over me.