Is it just me, or does my son look oddly like Mariah Carey in this picture?

Last night, in a fever-induced haze, I had a meltdown. I was watching some random TV show with some ridiculously fit chick in a bikini while I was curled on my side with evil mastitis ripping through my boob, fifteen extra pounds of baby weight around my middle, 102 evil degrees inside my body on top of the 90 degrees outside my body and exhaustion racing through every fiber of my shivering being – and there was this beautiful, thin woman lounging on a beach, probably sucking down an ice cold margarita.
A bit of antibiotics and some sleep later, I still want to beat that woman.

Perhaps it’s the new influx of hormones running through me (because giving birth thirteen weeks ago wasn’t enough, apparently my body thinks I’m somehow stable enough again to battle PMS and cramps that rival the start of labor) – but this made me cry.

WHITE PLAINS, N.Y. – A top New York heart surgeon who was doing a mercy-mission operation on an 8-year-old boy in El Salvador had to scrub out in the middle of the procedure so he could donate his own rare-type blood to the patient.
Dr. Samuel Weinstein said he had his blood drawn, ate a Pop-Tart, returned to the operating table and watched as his blood helped the boy survive the complex surgery.
In the May 11 operation, which had begun 12 hours earlier at Bloom Hospital in San Salvador, the boy’s failing aortic valve was replaced with his pulmonary valve and the pulmonary valve was replaced with an artificial valve.
“The surgery had been going well, everything was working great, but he was bleeding a lot and they didn’t have a lot of the medicines we would use to stop the bleeding,” Weinstein said. “After a while they said they couldn’t give him blood because they were running out and he had a rare type.”
“We realized he might bleed to death, so I asked what blood type he was and they said he was B-negative and I said, “You know, I’m B-negative.”
“His mother was very happy with me and she said to me, `Does this mean that he’s going to grow up and become an American doctor?’”

These doctors give up their vacation time to travel the world and take care of heart children in countries where the technology isn’t as advanced as ours. Amazing.
We are so, so blessed to live so close to Children’s Hospital Boston. I’m sure that’s part of why I’m crying, too. Going through Sammy’s surgeries are hard enough, but at least we find some comfort in knowing we’re in the hands of some of the best surgeons and doctors in the world.
That said, please donate blood. Sammy’s here in part because of blood others had so unselfishly donated – he needed his first transfusion at two days old, plus what he received throughout his surgery. If I could stand outside the donor center and hug every person that walked out, I would.
(Special request: Good friends of ours are bringing in their little girl (who also has HLHS) into the hospital today. From Alicen:

Thankfully we got to participate in a research study and Ellie was randomized into the MRI group, which means, she’ll have an MRI tomorrow morning. If everything looks as they expect we may even get to come home tomorrow night depending on how well she does with the anesthesia. If they find something they weren

This sound is the best, most wonderfully perfect sound ever.
Ever. Even better than those explosive farts that make me double over in inappropriate giggles.
(He only started really laughing a couple of days ago. Until then, they were these breathy hee-hee squeals. Yesterday, we played Sesame Street’s “Near….. Far!” with him, and he thought it was the most hysterical thing ever. Mama looked a little funny, running backwards, waving her hands in the air, yelling “Far!” – where was the video camera for that? Heh.)

Alisa and Jeff always bring these incredible dishes to our little festivities. I’ve never been much of a cook, but I was itchin’ to make something fancy for our BBQ today. And while it’s not fancy, I made it, it was easy – and it tastes so damn yummy, I’ve already named it Eka’s Famous Hummus. (Nevermind that I grabbed it from here and its official name is “Mediterranean Walnut Spread”.)
1 cup canned garbanzo beans (about 1/2 of a 15-oz. can)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/2 cup lightly packed basil leaves
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 to 3 teaspoons lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon pepper
Toasted thin baguette slices or pita bread slices
Directions
1. Drain garbanzo beans, reserving the liquid. In a blender or food processor bowl, combine beans and 2 tablespoons of the reserved liquid, the walnuts, basil leaves, olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper.
2. Cover and blend or process until nearly smooth. (Scrape down sides and add additional reserved liquid if mixture appears stiff.) Serve on toasted baguette slices or pita slices. Store, covered, in the refrigerator up to 5 days. Makes about 1-1/4 cups.
Now if you don’t mind, I’m off for another Twisted Tea. Jay “lost” rock-paper-scissors, so I get to indulge a little bit.

The first time Sammy had to go under anesthesia, it was going to be for a long time – a few days. He was under again on Tuesday, but this time just for a few hours. We had a deal both times – he was going to spend that time plotting his takeover of the world. I’m a type-A; how crazy of me to think that someone might rest, even under anesthesia!
I posted this picture of the chubmonkey on flickr the other day, and Jen commented that he looked like he was “contemplating his take-over of the world”. That’s my boy!
One of the things I’ve struggled with the past few months is planning for the future. I often wonder what it’s like to have a child without complications, where you can dream freely, without fear, about what her future is going to be like. I’ve started a little nighttime routine that’s really helped. We’re the suckers that hold our kid until he falls asleep, so when he’s out, I list for him all the sweet dreams he’s going to have that night – next summer at Fenway. Fishing with mama and daddy. Snuggling in mama’s arms. Hiking the Adirondacks. Driving the boat with Grandpa. A full belly. Running around with Keegan and Jonah. Planting sunflowers in little dixie cups.
Taking over the world.
No pressure or anything. I mean, he’ll have plenty of time after he’s graduated from Harvard to really hammer out the details. And besides, with a face like that, how could anyone resist giving this kid anything he wants?
(And yes, we’re home. I switched hosting companies and the site needed a few days to settle. Sammy came home with some icky tummy virus – we’re waiting on the culture to tell us just which one it is. Poor daddy had the pleasure of scraping nasty diarrhea into a little cup – the things we do for our kids.)

Yesterday: We’re here. We were admitted around 1 this afternoon. They did an xray and an EKG, throughout which Sammy screamed his head off. He finally calmed down when we got up to the floor, but he’s been off all afternoon. Can’t blame the poor kid – we’re in a hospital. All the sounds and smells can’t bring back good memories, I’m sure. He finally fell asleep on my chest for a while, all decked out in his Red Sox gear with his team kicking Yankee butt, 4-1.

We’re doing okay. Oddly, I’m comforted being here. At home, I’m always on edge – what does this cry mean? Is his heart beating right? Here, on monitors, the control freak in me feels safe. And here, should something happen, I know he’s in the best hands and those hands are just a short yell away. When we were here after he was born, after his first surgery, I almost didn’t want to go home. We’re taken care of here. He’s taken care of here.

On a happy note, Sammy broke the 11 pound mark and now weighs a chunky 11lb 2oz and is 24 inches long. That’s almost a FIVE POUND gain since we came home two months ago. This is fantastic for a heart baby!

Knock on wood.

Today around 11: They took Sammy into the cath lab this morning around 7:30. We didn’t sleep much last night, but Sammy ate like a champ yesterday, sucking down almost four ounces more than he normally does – and he slept like a, well, baby. Jay sat with him this morning until he had to go in for anesthesia — he wasn’t the happiest camper considering that he hadn’t been allowed to eat for the past 4 hours.

We got an update about 40 mins ago saying that he’s doing really well. They have him under sedation but he’s breathing on his own and not on the respirator. They’ve gained access to his heart and are running some hemodynamics tests before starting with the pictures and balloon dilation.

Today at 12:30: They called us to let us know Sammy was all done. We’re sitting with him for a while in the cath lab while he comes out of the anesthesia. He’s groggy and unhappy about being sedated, and he keeps fighting against it. His cries are kind of funny – they’re normal cries sort of dragged out over a longer, medicated time. He hates the IV board on his hand and kept whacking himself in the face, so he’s swaddled all snug while they monitor his heartrate, oxygen sats and respirations.

Apparently, they had to do the ballooning a couple of times – they weren’t happy with the first few attempts. From what we know right now, everything went okay – I guess we’ll see what the next few weeks bring. If the stretching didn’t go as hoped, it’s something they might need to work on during his next surgery (the Glenn) in July.

They’re going to keep him for observation, and as along as he’s doing well, we should be discharged tomorrow.

Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts.

Hey.
Sorry I’ve been quiet – it’s been a rollercoaster week.
We went to Sammy’s cardiologist appointment on Tuesday. It was rough for me – I didn’t want to be at Children’s. I was certain we were going to get a date for Sammy’s next surgery, and I wasn’t ready for that.
Instead, our cardiologist ended up doing an echo on Sammy because his pulse in his legs was weak, and found that there was scar tissue from when they tried to fix the coarcation during his first surgery. It’s causing a bit of a back-up in his aorta. It’s not a huge problem right now, but his cardiologist wants to take care of it as soon as possible.
So Monday we’re getting admitted and he’ll have a balloon catheterization and monitoring on Tuesday (during which they’re going to try to stretch the scar tissue out and open the pathway), and hopefully, as long as things go well, we’ll be home Wednesday.
Mama was totally not expecting that at all, and I go back and forth between feeling okay with things (my baby is sick and this will make him better) and being really upset about everything (they have to do work on his heart). Some days it’s hard to look at him without my heart breaking a little. (I always feel bad using that phrase now.) I think it’s part of being a parent of a child with a CHD – you’re kind of always holding your breath a little, even when things are going well. And when they’re not so good, it’s even scarier. We had such a good run, and I was able to feel normal for a little bit, and it felt good. Now I feel like someone slammed me with a reality check, and toss in there that he’s been off the past few days… well, worrying so much is just exhausting.
We did get a sense of when his next surgery will be – they’re looking at scheduling for the end of July. We want the same surgeon who did his first surgery, so they’re going to call us with a specific date. Part of me is afraid of having that date hanging over my head; the rest of me wants to be done with it already. I want that space between the 2nd and 3rd surgeries to feel a little normal again.
So on Tuesday, if you could send some of that amazing energy and prayer you all pulled off last time, it would be most appreciated.
(And excuse me while I bitch, but… I KNOW spammers don’t pay attention to site/post content, but I get really pissed off when they spam babysamson.com – it’s a site about a baby who had OPEN HEART SURGERY. Have a little f*cking decency and take your links for amateur p-rn elsewhere, for $#%#’s sake.)

So you’ve probably heard about the crazy rain and flooding we’ve had up here. It’s so bad that we’re in a state of emergency – our little city has seen almost 11 inches of rain in the last two days. Local schools were closed and turned into shelters; roads we normally take are flooded and there’s a threat that they’re turning our water off for fear of contamination.
Jay and I figured we’d make the few-block trek to the river to see what all the hubbub was about. We piled Sammy into the car, and after sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic with everyone else either a) trying to get to the river to see what was going on or b) trying to get the hell away from it, we finally made it to one of the bridges.
Holy crap!
Our usually somewhat tame Merrimack is incredibly vicious – raging almost eight feet above normal. It’s expected to crest at 8pm tonight, flooding the roads alongside it. There are these wonderful falls by one of the locks – the water is so high right now, the lower portion almost meets the top of those falls!
We made our way over each of the bridges, taking turns jumping out and getting pictures alongside all the other awe-struck locals. One of the parking lots at a local mill was flooded, complete with a truck under water.
They’re telling us that it’s supposed to get worse before it gets better. Knock on wood, we’re not that far from the river but we’re definitely uphill of it. It’s just kind of creepy, watching roads not even a quarter of a mile from us filled with water!
(There are a few more pictures here.)

Things to do on a rainy the-heavens-have-opened-and-flooded-our-city day: Scrapbook. Clean. Nap. Watch movies -
Play dress-up with the baby.
I mean, how could I resist? A baby’s gotta represent, yo.