We decided to go through with the tracheostomy surgery. For reference, a tracheostomy is a surgical opening made into the windpipe allowing for there to be secondary access to oxygen due to an obstruction in the individual’s upper airway or lungs.

That week before Hannah’s surgery was so painful. I remember agreeing to have the surgery but still feeling resistance inside of me. Not because I wasn’t sure this wasn’t the best option, considering our circumstances, but because at that moment I felt like I was further limiting my child. You have to understand, it was one thing after the other, and every time I tried to see the brighter side, it just seemed to get darker. It hurt so bad. Even reflecting on it now pains me a little. I was so mad at God. I prayed and prayed and it pained me to not see things get better, but progressively get worse. But, that was all I knew and I couldn’t let up. We persisted that last week and held on to the hope that there was still a possibility for Hannah to breathe on her own. But, the day came and it was time, nothing had changed and it was time to take action.

July 15 came and I remember everyone apart of the team that would be in the operating room(OR) with Hannah coming to get consent and get everything ready for transport. I had held my composure pretty well that morning until I felt a knot in the back of my throat as we got closer. I really didn’t want this. I didn’t want this life for my daughter. I didn’t want this for myself or my family. Would you believe it if I told you I made them stop everything?

I requested for the surgeon to come upstairs to the PICU and speak to me one last time. I asked him to thoroughly explain my options to me once more. I just wanted to be so sure that this was the best I could do for her. In his surgical gear and all, her doctor had no problem walking me through everything again. For reference, He and I had already met multiple times that week. I broke down in that office with him. I couldn’t keep it together anymore, not at a time when it felt like it was all slipping through my fingers. Im not sure what it is that makes parents in situations like these feel like they have to hold it all together for their medical team; I guess it’s due to the cold persona of some, but I’m here to tell you don’t. This is your life and it’s real.

I asked him to give me a moment. I needed to pray. You see, even at this moment, as angry as I was with God, there was no one else I could think to run to for guidance in a moment like this aside from him. At that moment, it came to me that this was our reality and I had to confront it.

When I went up to the team of medical professionals and told them we could continue, they clapped for me. One of the fellows even came up to me and told me I was strong and so brave. What he didn’t know, was that all I really wanted to do was run away.

They give parents this moment before they take their children down to the OR where you can kiss them goodbye and say something comforting to them. This would have been Hannah’s 5th surgical intervention at that point at only two months old. I remember rubbing her small toes and giving her a kiss on the hand and forehead.

I kissed my child as though I didn’t know if she would come back upstairs. It pained me that during these months I frequently kissed her as though it would be the last time.