We returned to the hospital anxious to see our little girl. I am not sure that anything could have prepared us for what we saw that afternoon. We walked into her room where she was being attended to by two nurses. Our little Lily lie before us with her tiny arms limply hanging by her sides. Her skin, once pink and soft, now appeared lifelessly gray and dull. Her face was disfigured by the metal bow which held the ventilator in place and her body was swollen with excess fluid, which we were told was common after surgery. There is nothing common about seeing your newborn baby lying seemingly lifeless in a cold hospital room. Desperation caught my breath as the tears rolled down my face. Squeezing Blake's hand, I stroked her fingers. No response. At that moment, I knew we had a long road ahead of us.
After being reassured that Lily was in good hands, Blake and I left a few hours later to grab some dinner. Afterwards, I headed to the third floor to take care of a few necessities while Blake went directly to Lily's room. When he arrived at her door way, doctors and nurses were hurriedly rushing around our baby's bedside as monitors were sounding the alarms that something was awry. Lily's lung had collapsed and her blood pressure was dropping. Upon discovery of the collapse, the doctors inflated her lung and watched her pressure rise to an acceptable level. When I came up a few minutes later, the doctors were finishing up in her room and Dr. Austin, Lily's surgeon dressed in street clothes, was speaking to Blake outside the room. Fear seized my heart but he assured us that the crisis had been averted and predicted a full recovery.
That week her room was flooded with specialists: neonatologists, surgeons, pharmacists, attending physicians, interns, nurses, respiratory therapists, ultrasound technicians-- on and on they came and went. Each day it seemed Lily made some small progress. They slowly weaned her off of the ventilator, the pain medicines, and the sedatives. They removed two chest tubes that drained off excess fluids, her R.A. lines and her pacemaker wires (in case of emergencies). As the swelling reduced and the ventilator was revoked, we could see our little girl's face shining through the gloom again. A few days after surgery, Lily returned to the NICU to finish out her recovery. Within a week, she was eating well and her levels were at an acceptable place. The doctors discharged Lily and we brought her home May 11, 2012, just 10 days after surgery.
As we put her in her car seat and headed out of the parking garage, the sun shone on Lily's face for the first time. She squinted in the light and my heart leaped. Our little girl was coming home. When we arrived at the apartment, Blake let me take Lily inside as he unloaded the car. I took her to her room and rocked her in the dimly lit nursery. Tears streamed down my face as I held her close. I couldn't stop staring at our tiny sleeping sweetheart. Lily was finally home.
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