A Sacred Moment Before Surgery
There is a sacred moment in the hospital—a threshold we cross as parents, knowing we must soon hand our child over to the unknown. It’s the last few steps we walk with him, the door or elevator where we part ways, entrusting our son to the medical team. Despite our trust in their skills, this moment is always filled with immense emotional weight, a point where time seems to stand still and all our hopes are suspended.
For parents of children with congenital heart defects, these moments before a major procedure are profoundly different. Every parent knows the feeling of worry—the nervousness that comes with a first day at school or a bad cold. But this is something else. There’s a vulnerability here that can’t be compared. We hold our son close, his tiny hand in ours, showering him with love as though our very presence might shield him from what lies ahead. It’s not just about the surgery itself; it’s about the significance of this moment. We know, in the back of our minds, that we may be saying goodbye as if it’s the last time.
This moment is sacred—not because of any religious ritual, but because of its importance to our family. It’s a pause where we let ourselves feel the full weight of our love and our fear, honoring this intersection of hope and uncertainty. The easy thing might be to treat it as just another hospital visit, to act casual and confident. But that would be to diminish the importance of the moment, of acknowledging the gravity of what’s happening.
Families like ours live with this delicate balance every day—believing in the best possible outcome while knowing the reality that not everything goes as planned. It’s a tightrope of optimism and fear. But in these moments before surgery, we focus on the love that connects us, the strength of our family, and the trust we place in the hands of the doctors.
To other families who have been through this, you’re not alone. We know what it’s like to stand there, feeling that mix of helplessness and hope as your child is rolled away. It’s a shared experience for those of us navigating the world of congenital heart defects, and it’s one that bonds us together. We may not be able to control what happens next, but we can control how we choose to embrace this moment with love and tenderness.
Our faith in the medical team is strong, and we believe in their expertise. Yet, it never makes this moment easier. It’s sacred because it holds everything we love—our hopes, our fears, our unwavering love for our child. And that is something we will always honor.
