Two Years of New Life

Dear Anthony,

Two years ago today, I kissed your Daddy goodbye in the pre-op room at University of Nebraska Medical Center's hospital. Your Daddy had never been under the knife before, and I know he was nervous. He kept giving me instructions for what I should do if he didn't make it. I don't even know if he remembers that...they had already given him a little Versed in his IV. I was pretty nervous at that point. All of my little family was going to be in surgery together, and there was the possibility that at the end of the day, I would be the only member of that family still alive. You were so sick, baby, that at that point I was convinced you weren't going to be able to handle the surgery.

After I left your father, I came upstairs where Maw Maw, Nana and Grandpa were already waiting with you. We spent the rest of the morning waiting to hear that they had started your Daddy's surgery. An hour past the time they were supposed to start, I finally called. They had to wait on a certain instrument that was not in the operating room that should have been there, so they started late.

Your stomach was getting swollen with ascites again, you could barely sit in our arms, you were hurting, breathing hard and drifting in and out of sleep. But that's when I experienced my nerves calming down. It was like a blanket was laid over me, and I wasn't able to feel much emotion after that. But at the same time, I just had this feeling that everything was going to turn out OK. I'm so grateful, now, for that feeling...I didn't want to spend the whole day thinking thoughts of death and being alone.



All of us walked you down to the same pre-op area that I was in with your Daddy that morning. I held you while a resident came and marked your abdomen at the incision site. He marked it with his initials and a smiley face. When they took you from me, I experienced the most heart wrenching pain I have ever felt. I have never in my life felt so scared, calm, angry, happy, sad and glad all at the same time. I knew everything was going to be fine, but there was a tiny little voice in the back of my head that kept voicing the fear in me.

Throughout the day I got updates on you and your Daddy. "Everything is going fine", they said, "Mark's liver is out and looks great." "Anthony's liver is out, and it's more diseased than we thought. We should be another 3 hours here with Anthony." And an hour and a half later, your surgeon came to me. At first, all I could think was that something had gone terribly wrong for them to be out an hour and a half earlier than they thought. But the image of Dr. Langnas' huge smile finally worked it's way into my brain and I realized that everything had gone well. Your "new" liver had started pumping blood and moving bile as soon as it was allowed to; you were on your way to the PICU to wake up.

I got to see your Daddy first. I won't mince words here: he looked like hell. But the first thing he said to me was, "How's Anthony?" and when I told him you were fine, he cried.

When I finally got to the PICU to see you, there were tubes coming out of every part of your body. I had known what to expect, so it wasn't a major shock, but if anyone can see their child like that and not be affected...well, I've never met them. They told me that you wouldn't wake up for hours, but when I leaned over your bed and kissed you, your eyes opened for a second. Already the whites of your eyes were less yellow. You were already losing your orange glow. It was a beautiful site to behold.

Throughout the next few days, you continued to improve. And now it's been two years, and I still can't believe (some days, at least) the miracle that I've been given. You are completely a two-year old boy. When I pick you up from day care, you're covered in dust from the pebbles on the play ground. You love to read the same books over and over, ad nauseum. You love to eat pizza, cookies and beans. But you'll allow us to slip a piece of chicken, shrimp or meat in there sometimes. Poptarts are a morning breakfast staple, and I try to make sure that I never run out of them. You love to come snuggle with Daddy and me in the morning if you get up before we do. You are the best thing that could have ever happened to us.





You are my hero, Anthony. You always will be.

Love, Mama