Our journey began with a simple ultrasound appointment, one of the many routine checks during pregnancy. We had been filled with excitement and anticipation, eagerly preparing for the arrival of our baby. At 20 weeks, we were about to find out the sex of our little one. But what we learned that day would change our lives forever.
During the scan, the technician’s face shifted from casual to serious, and after a few moments of quiet, she excused herself and brought in the doctor. They told us that there were a few concerns about the baby’s heart, which didn’t look right. I could see the worry in the doctor’s eyes. “This could be something very serious,” he said, leading us to believe something was terribly wrong. I felt as if the floor had dropped from beneath me.
The diagnosis came a week later: our baby had Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS), a severe congenital heart defect. The left side of his heart was underdeveloped, and without surgery, he wouldn’t survive. I remember lying on the examination table, staring at the sterile, wooden walls, feeling numb, as if my entire world had just shattered in an instant. The doctor talked about options – we could choose to terminate the pregnancy, opt for palliative care, or pursue surgery. I couldn’t even process the words.
Our hearts were heavy with the weight of the decision we had to make. There was no question in our minds that we would fight for our child. Abortion was not an option. We chose the surgeries—the Norwood, Glenn, and Fontan surgeries, knowing that without these procedures, our baby boy wouldn’t make it.
But the journey wasn’t going to be easy. The pregnancy was fraught with uncertainty. We were sent to specialists, had countless scans, and were given limited hope. The doctors told us the success rate for the surgeries was low, but that we had to try. They offered us little more than statistics, and with each appointment, we felt more overwhelmed and afraid.
In the midst of this whirlwind, we found comfort in each other. We remained hopeful, but the weight of it all was sometimes unbearable. I remember coming home from that appointment and sitting in the car, tears streaming down my face. The world around me felt distant, like I was walking through a fog. But through the tears, my husband, Tyler, offered me a simple, yet profound reassurance: “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay.”
We held on to those words. We kept our faith and pressed forward, planning and preparing as best we could. We named our baby Theodore, or Tad for short, with the hope that this little boy, against all odds, would come into this world and fight. His name became a symbol of our determination, a promise that we would fight alongside him no matter what.
When the day of our induction finally came, I was 35 weeks pregnant. I had been monitored closely due to concerns about Intrauterine Growth Restriction (IUGR), and it became clear that Tad was struggling to grow as he should. The medical team was prepared for the arrival of a very sick baby, and as we went into the operating room, I was filled with anxiety and anticipation. Tyler was by my side, and although we were both terrified, there was also a sense of peace. This was the day we would meet our son, and we would be there for him, no matter what.
At 8:14 p.m. on September 21, 2015, Tad was born. He was tiny, weighing just 4 pounds, and as the doctors pulled him from my womb, he didn’t cry. My heart sank. But then, something miraculous happened: we heard the faint sound of a cry, and I could breathe again. It was a relief, but that moment would be the beginning of his long and difficult battle.
Tad was immediately rushed to the NICU. His heart was fragile, and the doctors had to move quickly to assess him. His survival was uncertain, and we spent those first few hours in limbo, not knowing if he would make it. The next days were filled with tests, procedures, and constant worry. At just three days old, Tad underwent his first open-heart surgery. As parents, we could only wait and pray. The clock ticked slowly, and every update felt like a small victory.
But then, disaster struck. Tad went into cardiac arrest. The room filled with panic as the medical team sprang into action. I remember watching in horror as the doctors worked frantically to save my baby, squeezing his tiny heart with their hands in an effort to restart it. It felt like an eternity before they stabilized him. It was a miracle. My son was still here.
But the challenges didn’t end there. Tad was placed on ECMO (Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation) to give his heart and lungs time to rest. He was hooked up to more machines than I could count. He had a trach, a feeding tube, and was constantly monitored. The days were long, filled with fear, hope, and exhaustion. But with each passing day, Tad showed us just how strong he was. He fought with all his might, never giving up.
At four months old, Tad underwent his second open-heart surgery. He was weak, sick, and the doctors were concerned, but once again, he pulled through. The recovery was slow, but steady. Tad’s resilience was nothing short of extraordinary.
Throughout his first year, Tad continued to face one challenge after another. Infections, surgeries, and setbacks were common, but so were the small victories. His strength, determination, and the love and support of his family carried him through.
Finally, after months of hospitalization, Tad was able to come home. It was a moment I will never forget—the moment when we were able to take our warrior home. We had fought for him every step of the way, and now, finally, we could bring him home, where he belonged.
Tad’s journey is far from over. He continues to face challenges every day, but his story is one of resilience, hope, and unwavering love. He has taught us the true meaning of strength, and his courage inspires us every single day. We are proud of the little boy he is becoming, and we will continue to fight for him, just as he has fought for his life.
In a world filled with uncertainty, Tad is our miracle. We know that the road ahead may be difficult, but we are prepared to face it, one step at a time, with love, faith, and the determination to give him the best life possible. Tad’s story is a reminder that no matter how hard life gets, there is always hope, and there is always love. And as long as we have those, we know that anything is possible.
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