Mama here.
What a rollercoaster.
Sammy’s out of surgery and in recovery. We were able to be with him – they actually encourage it. He’s stable, but paralyzed and sedated. His chest is still open – Jay was able to bring himself to look at it, but I can’t bear it at all. Luckily, they keep a blanket over him, and I get to peek at his nose and that crazy wild hair and those tiny, tiny toes. I’m going to have to settle for nibbling those toes for the next few days – hopefully by the weekend they’ll start weaning him off all the things I don’t understand, and hopefully by the weekend we’ll get open eyes and that little squeak and the little lip kissing smacks I love so much. It all depends on when they take him off the ventilator.
The surgeon said that Sammy handled everything wonderfully – as best as they could have expected or wanted. And same thing for the steps now – the nurses said he was doing amazingly. Of course, I still feel like we’re walking on tiptoes and that at any moment, it could all fall apart – but we’re holding on to the little baby steps he’s making. That’s all we can ask, and really, all we can do.
As for us, I think we’re holding up okay. I sometimes forget that I just gave birth a few days ago, and that on top of it all, I’m a painful, swollen ball of hormones. Jay has been incredible – I don’t think I would have survived any of this without him. Our families and friends have all been so incredibly supportive, and knowing you’re all out there pulling for our little boy – a boy many of you have never met from a mama you’ve never met – amazes me. It’s all such a source of strength and energy for us.
Right now, though, our bodies are a mixture of sheer exhaustion and adrenaline, and it’s hard sometimes to figure out which one should win out. Everything hit us tonight – sort of like the adrenaline all exploded and our bodies went into this incredible crash state. I wish I could describe it better, but it’s all just such a surreal fog. So we’re taking care of ourselves while the nurses and doctors take care of Sammy – we’re back at the hotel for some Jeopardy (and one of the answers was just Samson! What a coincidence!), a nap and an attempt at a sense of normalcy. We’re going to need all this energy when he starts to wake and we really start to become responsible for doing all those parent things. We can’t wait.

Hi it’s Alisa again. Not sure what happened to all of the updates. I checked and their server is not reporting problems but we will figure that out later.
Here is the update on Sammy:
Just got out of surgery
Went as well as expected.
They did have to change their plan once they were in but it went fine.
His chest is open and will remain that way for the next few days.
Erika and Jay are about to go and see him.
Nice to see the magic of all that love being sent their way is working. Thanks guys!

From Daddy:
Sammy has made a home for himself in the CICU, and all the nurses can’t stop saying how cute he is. He really is an amazing little monkey even if he is only 3 days old.
His first day was spent having a full set of ultrasounds and echos done — I think they spent 4 hours getting all of the pictures that they wanted. We met with Dr. Salvin that evening to go over everything. Nothing had changed too much since our week 32 echo, but they definitely have a clearer picture. They’ve diagnosed Sammy with Mitral Valve Atresia, a large VSD, a slightly coarcated Aorta, and a hypoplastic left ventricle. The left ventricle is about 60% of the right. Normally a completely close mitral valve would cause a much smaller ventricle, and a severely undersized aorta, but the VSD has allowed blood to cross over and travel through the aorta. They are presenting his information today to the surgical team.
Yesterday morning they took him off of the prostaglandins because he was breathing too heavily and was sending too much blood to his lungs and not enough to the rest of his body. They started him on dopamine and gave him a transfusion — definitely NOT the phone call we wanted to get at 4:30AM!! The treatment started to get his respiratory rate down and his oxygen saturation levels (sats) down, so they started him back on the prostaglandins. This has caused they to schedule his Norwood for Tuesday morning. We’ll know more today after the conference.
Just wanted to keep everyone updated.

Hi all.
Just a quick check-in since we only have access when we’re with Sammy, and when we’re here, well, all we want to do is hold him.
He’s precious. We’re both in love in ways we never thought we could be.
The birth was a-ok until the pushing started. Four hours and a few really serious scares, Sammy was born with the help of forceps, his cord wrapped around his neck and emergency intervention by about 10 different doctors. But he’s here and awake and he knows his Mommy and Daddy already and that’s all that matters to us right now. The whole story will have to wait – but the whole “I’d do it all over again” line is completely true.
His surgery is scheduled for Wednesday with the possibility of being bumped up to Monday or Tuesday. We met with one of his cardiologists this afternoon, and things look good. I’ll go into more details later, but it’s not traditional HLHS as they would define it. He’ll still need the same surgeries, but they bumped up his survival to 90-95%! Please cross your fingers and pray and send energy and all the good things you’ve been doing for us. It seems to be working!
Anyway, I know you’re all dying for some pictures – so here they are! No time to edit/comment/describe them – but I think you can figure out who’s who.

Hi it’s Alisa here with the news.
Samson Daniel was born at 7:05am this morning. He weighed 7 pounds 4 ounces and was 19 inches long.
He is stable and gorgeously pink. Both very wonderful things. Erika and Jay are both recovering from a very physically and emotionally exhausting experience. Thank you for all of your comments and support.

A little breakfast – and we’re off!
This should really be the last post before he’s here. Really.
Cross your fingers that this goes as quickly and mildly painful as possible! I’m thinkin on a scale of 1-10, I can comfortably handle a 5 or so for any extended period of time … so couldya keep that happy number out floating in the universe? Thanks.

I’m really sorry that you keep coming here – for weeks now! – hoping for a picture of the little one. Really, I am.
No pictures just yet, except this one: me, in a scary hospital johnny, all sorts of exhausted and scary looking – BUT ONE CENTIMETER DILATED.
(Maybe I should clarify – it’s a picture of me, not of umm, the dilation. )
For those of you who are new – I’ve got the cervix of steel. Weeks now of on-again, off-again contractions with nothing to show for it. Two doses of Cytotec and I’m ONE whole centimeter dilated!
I wanted to kiss the OB on duty. Progress, baby – there’s progress!
They gave me a third dose, which sent the contractions into a tizzy. It was good practice for tomorrow: breathe through them, thank my body for doing such a good job, remind myself that the pain is good pain, pain with a purpose. Stay positive.
So stubborn little Eka won her silly battle – they’ll reevaluate for Pitocin when we’re admitted at 7:30 in the morning. In the meantime – warm shower and snuggly hotel bed for us.
Soon – and then you’ll be rolling your eyes, whining about yet another picture of that baby Sammy.

Nonononono – don’t get your hopes up. He’s not here yet – I just had access for a couple of minutes and wanted to update.
They started the cycle of Cytotec (that cervix is STILL closed solid!) and we just had lunch. We head back in for the next round, and then probably a third this evening. And then…
I think I got them to push the Pitocin back until the morning! WOO HOO!!!
At least then I can try to sleep tonight. At least then my body will have a chance to work through the Cytotec and maybe start some real labor on its own. At least then I feel less on their schedule and a bit more on my own.
So don’t be surprised if you don’t see anything until tomorrow afternoon. Of course, it’s not 100% – my OB still needs to approve it – but the nurses think it’s crazy to start it at night AND besides, the labor & delivery floor is full. We might end up at the hotel across the street tonight. This would make me mucho happy!
Also making me mucho happy – checking my comments on my cellphone. It’s such a comfort hearing from everyone – a nice, supportive diversion from everything.
Soon!

And we’re off.
I’m not all too thrilled about the prospect of being induced – I fought it for most of the pregnancy, and now I have no choice. I just wish they’d let my body do what it knows to do, when it knows to do it. But that’s not the case and there’s nothing else I can do about it. I cry every time I think about what the next 24 hours are going to be like – medications and IVs and other things I tried so hard to avoid. I know I shouldn’t waste the energy – I’m going to need it – but I can’t help but feel completely powerless and terrified of what we’re heading into. I went from wanting a natural childbirth to the incredibly medicalized experience I didn’t want. I trust my body more than I trust any medicine or doctor (except my sister), and giving up that control makes me really nervous and sad.
If all goes well, by this time tomorrow, there will be a new little Sammy in the world. I don’t want to leave on such a negative note, but I’m having a hard time getting past all this enough to think about that moment, that moment that’s supposed to erase all the pain and fear of the next few hours, and then beyond that, the next few weeks. I know it’ll happen, and sooner than I expect, but I’m still struggling anyway.
I doubt we’ll have access between now and then, and our cellphones need to be off while we’re in L&D (not like I’m not going to try to sneak a flickr picture anyway) – but have no fear, you’ll know when he’s here.
Hey – I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it. Ok, lame, but I needed to say something stupid and silly. Ummm…. go Sammy! How’s that?
Happy thoughts. Happy baby Sammy thoughts. I can do this.
Thank you all for all your support the last few months. It means more to us than you’ll ever know.

We went in for our sixth non-stress test this morning – essentially, they strap two monitors onto my belly: one monitors his heartbeat, the other monitors any contractions I might be having.
I woke up this morning feeling regular contractions – every 10 minutes – but nothing painful, really. By the time we had the NST at 11, I was at every 5 minutes, and they were growing stronger. The OB asked if I wanted her to check my cervix – Jay jokes that he’s never seen me undress so fast! I was certain I’d finally hear the words, “Two centimeters!”
NOTHING.
Seriously. NOTHING.
I’m still at a “fingertip” and “long” – whatever that means. To me it means this: he will not come on his own and as much as I hate it, we’re going to end up being induced on Wednesday.
I had a bit of a meltdown – we went to see our friends, whose little girl ended up back in the CICU yesterday. We walked around the floor and peeked in on the other babies, a few of whom had very recently had surgery and were still hooked up to all sorts of wires and machines. Reality kicked in – that will be Sammy, and that will be him very soon, and we can’t do anything to stop it. I keep telling myself that those very things are what will keep him alive – without them, he’d have no hope of living past a week.
I guess it was easy to focus on the “getting him here” part for a while – it consumed every thought. But now that I know he’ll be here Thursday at the latest – well, those machines are right around the corner. Kissing him goodbye and sending him into open-heart surgery is right around the corner. Waiting to see how he makes it through, waiting for the nurse to come out every so often and give us updates, waiting to know he survived the surgery, waiting for him to come off the ventilator, the feeding tube, the monitors, to come home – all going to hit us next week.
Needless to say, I’m having a little bit of a rough afternoon. We’re facing one of the most difficult things we’re probably ever going to face, and there’s no running from it anymore.