Little Allison just fallen back to sleep after finishing what she could of her bottle.  Her little heart does not give her the energy to complete it.

 

She was only 2 1/2 weeks old and had not made it home, yet.

 

Allison has taken up residency at All Children's Hospital in the NICU.  She lays in the far east corner of the room surrounded by five other babies every now and again alarms beeping.  The nurse gave her the crib by the window, so that her 3 year old sister could visit during the daylight hours.

 

I have sat by her cribside in and out of days wondering when can I take her home.  Only to leave for a couple hours for sleep and nourishment.  Upon returning, covering my clothes with a musky smelling hospital gown.  Then scrubbing my hands with hard plastic brush, soap and very hot water.  Next proceed to her crib not looking at any of the other babies (HIPA), as the nurses make sure that I have followed all the rules. 

 

She sleeps.  I still had not been able to see her eyes.  She has her dad's dark and wavy hair.

 

I began questioning whether or not we made the right decision.  The doctors told us that we had to decide quickly.  Should we have done the other way?

 

The choice we made seem to make sense.  One open heart proceedure, instead of three.  Possibly four, if it doesn't work then she would need a new heart anyway. 

 

Damn the choices.  I wish there was a book that would have said this is what you need to do. 

 

Was my gut wrong?  I am pretty lucky following gut decisions.  But, here she lies, waiting for a heart.  If one does not come soon, she may not make it.

 

I feel guilty praying for this gift.  I am waiting for someone else's loss for my gain.  Waiting for death so my little one can live.  Maybe the other way would have been better.

 

The phone rings.  The nurse says it's for me.   It's the Transplant Coordinator - "I have some news, there may be a donor..."

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