We’re back

“Czarina, Evan threw up his feed.” Craig yelled from the bedroom.

Ugh.  I was just about to head into the shower.  The only 10 minutes I get for myself these days.

“Ok.  Just suction him and let’s change him.  Let me shower first.” I said.  

10 minutes later I’m dressed ready to go to bed. 

I walk out into the bedroom and see Craig – staring hard at the oxygen monitor. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask him. Panicked.

“His oxygen is low again and he can’t get out to get to his levels where he needs to be.”

Ok.  Not worried.  Our cardiologist said this may happen and if it happens for a few seconds or even a minute.

“How long have they been low?” I asked.

“About 5 minutes.” 

No.  Oh no. 

“Ok – let me call the cardiologist and text our doctor.”

Within minutes, we got a call back. 

After explaining what had been happening, the cardiologist needed us to go to the hospital.  She said she was pretty sure we could go in our car – just keep his oxygen monitor on him and monitor him closely.

I scrambled to pack up stuff for a possible admission into the hospital.  I called my parents.  Straining through tears to please come over and watch Iz – we had to go to the hospital for Evan.

Craig drove.  Fast.  Cursing as he got stuck behind slow cars in the fast lane.

“Please God. Please God. Please God.”  I whispered as my hand was on Evan’s chest – willing it to continue to move up and down – begging God and my son to keep his heart beating.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!  The oxygen monitor continued to warn us that his levels were dangerous low.

With every beep – Craig accelerated.  With every beep…I begged God to help my son.

The next day…

“His oxygen levels looked good overnight.  The x-ray looked good and his blood work looked good.  We’ll restart his feeds and see how he does and hopefully you’ll go home today or tomorrow.”

That was the morning….

By the afternoon, after we started feeding him again, his levels started to drop.  His cardiologist kept a close eye on him.  The nurse was working over time to figure out how to get him comfortable.

Evan had to have oxygen again.  His cleft made it hard for them to figure out a way to deliver oxygen.

With the oxygen, his levels came up. I prayed that Evan was just having a rough spell.

Then the cardiologist came back in.  He was an ECHO specialist.  He reviewed the ECHO with the surgeon.

Wait…the surgeon?

“Ok – so it looks like we need to find a way deliver more oxygen to his lungs.  The good thing is, we have a solution.  A risky one – sure..”

And then he brought up surgery and told us no home for awhile.

Surgery.  Evan’s not even 6 weeks old.  Granted – we were warned this could happen.

But hadn’t I taken every precaution with him at home?  We’ve been praying.  Everyone’s been praying.

But, here we are.

They transferred us to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit so Evan could be watched closely.  He would get one on one care – something he needed since his levels would drop.

We packed up “our” room on the regular floor.

“He’s a fighter, Czarina.  Listen to how he cries.”  Craig said to me – tears falling from his face.

I just nodded.  So angry.  So upset.  So disheartened.

We were making the walk to the ICU and I couldn’t hold back.  The flood of tears fell from my face.

He’s so tiny.  He still fits in my arms.  He still makes those baby sounds that warms my heart.  His cries are still so sweet.

Why, God?  I keep asking myself.

We walked into the ICU.

“You’ll be in room 4.” the ICU nurse told us.

Craig looked at me.  “This is the room Evan and I were first in when we left  you at the hospital.  We’re back where we started.”

Evan is almost 6 weeks old but it feels like so much longer.  I spend every moment with him so our days and nights are one in the same.  We’ve gotten to know each other.  I’ve bonded with him in a way I don’t have with Isabelle.

I knew the day would come when surgery was going to be discussed. I also knew he would possibly have to have more than one.

I just didn’t realize the day could be so close.

So, we’re back in the hospital.  Back in ICU.  Back to the unknown of when surgery would be.  Back to counting down days in the hospital.  Back to missing Isabelle.  Missing normalcy.  Missing home.

We’re back to where we started.




  1. Oh Czarina and Craig! My heart breaks for what’s happening now.
    But trust in God. He really does know all. And His timing doesn’t always match up to ours.
    Prayers are continually rising heaven-ward for your sweet warrior.
    And prayers for you, that you might feel His arms around you.
    And for Iz, that she might not miss you…too much.
    Love and prayers!

  2. I can’t begin to comprehend all the emotions you are struggling with. There is no way to say ‘I understand, I know how how you feel’. Te best I can do is say that from the first moment I heard about the struggles Baby Evan would be facing I felt in my heart that everything was going to turn out okay. I think a lot of that feeling comes from knowing how strong you all are. That kind of strength will carry you through.

  3. I’m so very sorry. The hospital is even more horrible once you’ve had time at home. I’m praying. Mason’s early surgery was also a surprise and the whole sequence of events that led us so quickly to handing our baby over was completely traumatizing. The end has been well worth the journey, though. I’m praying for you through yours.

  4. Oh my heart just sinks for you . . . I know how you feel (my baby had surgery at 5 days old) – I’ll be praying!

  5. Elizabeth says:

    Buddy, I’m so sorry you’re going through all this. But Evan exceeded your expectations before and he will do it again!!!