A Year in Review

My Christmas tree and decor has been boxed up, the decadent cookies and desserts are all but gone, and life is getting back to normal once more.  Where my Christmas tree once stood now sits a giant pile of laundry waiting to be folded and the fireplace looks bare without stockings hung in a neat little row.  It was a spectacular end to a spectacular year. With Christmas come and gone I feel that sense of accomplishment that comes with another year done.
 We created so many wonderful memories.  Sleigh rides and elk at Hardware Ranch, Olivia's first Valentines, St Patrick's Day, and Easter, trips to the Zoo, trips to the park, running through the sprinklers, Olivia's 1st birthday, dandelion crowns, bubbles, sidewalk chalk, a trip to Colorado, a trip to snowbird, a trip to Yellowstone/Island Park, playing in the fall leaves, a wedding, a Harvest Festival, Halloween parties, trick-or-treating, Thanksgiving turkey, Christmas lights, hot cocoa, Christmas jammies.  It was a year filled with so many normal things that the spatter of not normal should be overshadowed.  For my girls, I hope it is.  I hope that all the glorious moments we spent together are what last in their minds.
If I told you it was all sunshine and unicorns, you'd know I was lying.  Just a week ago I wrote about how it wasn't.  The anxiety has ebbed a great deal.  Though I still have fits of butterflies and nausea they don't spoil play time or housework.  Here's me looking on the bright side; maybe it's what I need to lose that last five pounds to reach my goal weight.
Anyways! As many of us do, at the end of each year I tend to reflect.  On the amazing memories, yes, but so much more.  I am a firm believer that this life is meant to teach us.  The good events and the bad are laced with amazing lessons.  I pray regularly for help in becoming the person I need to be.  How lucky I am that those prayers are answered on a regular basis.  The mode of learning how to be that person isn't always easy.  In fact it rarely is.  But I am learning slowly.
2012, that hardest year of my life, was filled with lessons on trusting in my Savior and acceptance of what I cannot change.  2013, a much calmer year, has been filled with thousands of different lessons.
Forgiveness being number one.
When Olivia was first diagnosed one of the first things the doctors said was, "There was nothing you did that caused this."  But anyone who knows me well will tell you I am excruciatingly hard on myself.  My mind immediately jumped to blaming myself for Olivia's heart.  The second hand smoke I inhaled in Vegas casinos when I was 10 weeks pregnant, the bubble baths that might have been too hot, the diet of only cheerios during morning sickness,  and the list of things I did "wrong" could go on and on.  With every set-back Olivia faced the blame and guilt grew stronger.  I hid it well.  No one, not even Andrew knew how badly I blamed myself.  I began the long process of forgiveness this past spring and it has been a long process.  Slowly, I began to forgive myself and let go of the "mistakes" I made during the pregnancy with Olivia.  Though I will always have my moments of doubt and blame from time to time I have come to a point where I no longer constantly wonder what I could have done differently.
Not all of my anger has been centered on myself.  Funnily enough, the anger I felt toward someone else was my fault to a certain point.  Heart defect, not my fault.  The grudge I kept for far too long, definitely my fault.
With a more calm year I have been able to move my focus from one trial to another that I had put on a back burner.  It's not heart related but I still feel it is important to share.  In this particular trial I was hurt more than I ever expected to be hurt by any one person.  Betrayed and broken hearted I felt hatred that I had never felt before.  Others who were affected by this seemed to forgive so easily and I was stuck in this dark pit.  Just as I thought I was starting to let go, I would have nightmares about it and wake up more angry than before.  The only thing that saved me from being swallowed up by that dark cloud of hate was my perfect little baby with half a heart.  All the difficulties that came with her and her conquest of them showed me the perfect light that I knew I would be able to obtain someday.  Every time I thought I had forgot a little of the anger something would happen (often something ridiculous that shouldn't have affected me) and it would flare up again.  It was always the same, one step forward, twenty steps back.  It was a battle I couldn't win on my own.  This spring I began praying for that help I so needed to forgive.  I began realizing I didn't want to forgive.  From where I was sitting, they hadn't changed enough to deserve forgiveness.  So I tried something I had been told many times in church.  Rather than praying to forgive them, I prayed for them.  Their happiness, for them to be loved, for them to receive all the blessings they needed.  The best part of it all, wasn't that I immediately started forgiving them, but after I began praying for them I noticed a change in them.  It was probably a change that had been there all along but I had been to angry to notice.  Small things at first (probably why I didn't notice) and gradually they grew.  Really, the change was in me.  My eyes were opened to the good things happening and closed to the bad memories.  Once I saw that there was a change in this person the anger began melting away.  For the first time in two years I am can throw out the saying "I love them but I don't like them."  For this person, I'm so sorry it took me so long.  It's been a horrible battle with myself.  I love you and I will stand by my promise forever.  I will never give up on you so don't give up on yourself.

Unknown

So many things about this post are unknown.  First and foremost being, I have no idea what I want to write about.  I just want to write.
We'll just start with a quick update on Olivia, the trickster.  Oh how I love my little miracle.  But she's going to kill me.  Ok, the stress is going to kill me.  Whether it's her getting into everything she shouldn't or her health is a mystery but I'm going to die.  Olivia is your typical toddler.  Climbing onto everything, taking whatever she wants, and yelling "MINE!" every other second.  But, as she does this you can see she's not your typical toddler.  Olivia is getting more and more winded as time goes on.  She is not slowing down but her blue little lips, gray feet, and heavy breathing tell me she should.  We're not positive what's going on at this point but her sats are lower than they should be, sitting at an average of 77.  Ideally they should be over 80.  So, our easy peasy appointment that was supposed to be set for March (chest xray and EKG) will be turning into a sedated echo and possible cath in January.  Needless to say, this change has caused some stress for this momma.
Switching gears:
Once the days began to grow shorter I began to notice and increase in my moments of anxiety.  With the time change in November it was like a switch was flipped and more moments were spent in anxiety than not.  At the time I had no reason for it.  We hadn't received Olivia's new pulse ox yet and I was in the dark on her lower sats.  I chalked it up to the darkness (and I do still believe that plays a roll.)
As time as gone on and we've made our way deeper into winter the anxiety has been overwhelming at times.  There is still no known reason.  I had hoped that the holidays would distract from that feeling of impending doom that has lodged itself in my gut.  If anything, the holidays just made it worse.
I've tried to keep myself busy.  Doing has saved me in the past.  Cleaning house, taking care of the girls, playing in the snow, shoveling the snow (which I count as exercise as well.)  But none of it helps.  Well, maybe for a bit but then it's night time and I sit idly, having nothing left to do and that horrid feeling festers.  A few things help.  Deep breaths.  Being held by Andrew.  Talking to Andrew.  Laughing with Andrew.
Then this last week Andrew, my cure, had to work late every night and it all built up.  Each night was worse than the previous and though he tried to help I had already spent too much time in my own head and was feeling lost, scared, and so very alone.
Yesterday was the worst day by far.  The anxiety began much earlier than it normally did.  Nothing Andrew did or said helped.  Our drive to look at Christmas lights with the girls was cut short because the anxiety was so bad that I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up or have a full blown panic attack.  Neither of which I wanted to do in front of the girls.  And, of course, because the anxiety was affecting our holiday memory making that added to the anxiety.  In my mind, I was the worst mother in the world because of this anxiety.  It was making me impatient with the girls, it was making me spend too much time cleaning and less with them, it was making every moment that I was supposed to be enjoying stress-filled and close to miserable.
When we got home and the girls were tucked away in bed Andrew gave me a blessing.  I won't say what he said but for the first time in weeks I began to feel that tightness in my chest loosen.  Andrew held me the rest of the night and though I did wake up with some remaining anxiety I felt better than I had in a while.
A small part of the blessing I received said that I would feel my Savior's love.  I never doubt His love for me but there are times, like the past few weeks, where it has been hard to feel it.  There are times I feel so incredibly alone.  Especially in this heart journey.  I have my fellow heart mom's that often understand but there are still those dark moments where it's hard to claw your way out of you own head and worries.  It's so easy to get lost in it all and feel so alone and scared.  But then you have a moment.  However large or small.  However seemingly simple.  Today I had my moment.
The girls were being particularly difficult today.  The anxiety was significantly less since Andrew had given me a blessing but with the fighting and screaming that the girls were enjoying I could feel the stress rising.  In an act of cooling off I poked my head out the door to check the mail and found the box overflowing.  Our weekly adds had come early and I didn't think much of it until I grabbed the stash.  It was much thicker than it should've been for just the weekly adds and usual junk mail.  I found a manila envelope addressed to Olivia wedged between the adds and a credit card application.  The girls joined me as I opened it and found an assortment of cards inside.  With them was a note from a Jr High LDS seminary class explaining that HopeKids had given them Olivia's name and they wanted to send us a special Christmas greeting.  There were about 20 cards from kids around the age of 14.  As we went through each card and looked at the pictures and read their messages I was incredibly touched.  More than one of these students very simply wrote "remember, you are loved."
I don't believe in coincidences.  Yes, these notes were to Olivia from these students.  But the message was to me from my Father in Heaven.  These simple letters from strangers were what I needed to feel the love I know He has for me.  For the girls these cards were fun and exciting.  For me, they are a sacred testament that I am not alone.  For me, they are a light during this time of confusion and frustration as my mind fights against my happiness.  Tonight, for the first time in a long time I feel completely free of the unexplained anxiety.  Those students will never fully know or understand what they have done for me but I will forever be grateful to them and the inspiration that led them, their teachers, and anyone else involved.
As I get ready to celebrate Christmas with my family, free of those feeling that were weighing me down, I pray for you all that you may have your own Christmas miracle.  Whether it be a baby home from the hospital or making it through Christmas morning without ripping your hair out.  Merry Christmas!

Why Me?

Often, when something tragic happens in our lives, or maybe even something mildly uncomfortable, we are tempted to ask the question, "Why me?"  Often, when we ask that question, we are warned that it will do us no good.  It won't change the situation.  It won't make any difference.  BUT, I say, ask the question.  Whenever I ask the "Why me?" I am overwhelmed by the answers.

"Why me?"  Why did I, out of my many many cousins, my husbands many many cousins, and all of our friends (two years ago) have the baby with half a heart?  Why was I the one who's family was torn apart during each hospital stay?  Why was I the one who was living with the fear of losing my child?  There were so many "why me's" that ran and still run through my head every time we hit a bump in the road.  And with every "why me" I am reminded exactly "why me."
"Why Me?"  Because I am strong.  Stronger than I ever knew.  I never knew that I was strong enough to sleep through the constant beeping of a hospital at night.  I never knew that I was strong enough to hold my child down while the IV team took 45 minutes to place one IV.  I never knew that I was strong enough to fire a cardiologist who couldn't remember the difference between my child and a poodle.  I never knew that I was strong enough to do what it takes to be a heart mom.  That's why me.
"Why Me?"  Because I needed to see miracles.  I've seen the miracle of a baby recovering from two open-heart surgeries.  I've seen the miracle of friends and strangers stepping in to do whatever they could for little ol' me (and my family.)  I've seen the everyday miracles that at one time seemed random, but now I know exactly what they meant.  I've seen the miracle of prayers being answered.  I've seen the miracle of a normally crazy, emotionally messy woman (me) step up and manage to do what she needs to take care of her family.  I've seen God's hand in my life, preparing me for this journey before it started and everyday since.
"Why me?"  Because God loves me.  From the mouth of Mother Teresa, “I know God won't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much."  I was lucky enough to hear this quote days before we were told Olivia had a heart defect.  The initial feelings I had when we were told we would have a heart baby were feeling of inadequacy, loss, weakness.  I didn't think this was something I could handle.  But Mother Teresa's quote gave me that glimmer of hope.  He was trusting me to take care of this special spirit.  He was trusting me to fight for this baby girl.  To fight for her life, and her well-being.  He was trusting me to be the amazing person it takes to be a heart mom.  I had my doubts that I could do this.  I wasn't sure that God was giving me something I could handle, but because He was trusting me with this special role as a heart mom, I knew He wouldn't leave me to do it on my own.  He knew that the blessings would far out-weigh the trials.  He knew that I would find my strength.  He knew that I would get a few steps closer to becoming the person He wants me to be.  He trusted me.  He showed me how much He loves me.  That's why me.

Broken Record

That's what I feel like most of the time.  A broken record stuck on heart stuff.  My life over the past two years has been filled with all things heart.  Heart surgery, heart moms, heart clothing, heart conversations.  While I am totally fine with that, I sometimes wonder if those around me wanna take the broken record in my head and smash it into a million pieces.  But they can't.  I can't.  

In the past two incredibly hard and miraculous years I have learned countless lessons, felt emotions stronger than I ever have before, and experienced REAL miracles.  And I wanna tell everyone about it.  I wanna show everyone Olivia's zipper that represents what she's made it through.  I wanna tell everyone about how she's doing so well she hasn't need occupational therapy.  I want everyone to talk to Ella and see how amazing she has been in sharing her parents, taking care of her baby sister, and not letting Olivia's crazy first year get her down.  I want everyone to know that I made it through this incredibly hard thing.  I want everyone to know that during this incredibly hard thing I felt more loved than at any other moment in my life.  I want everyone to understand that even though Olivia looks perfectly normal and fine, every single day is a miracle for her and for us.  Every time my incredibly cuddly Livie grabs her big sister and gives her hugs or climbs up next to her on the chair and lays her head on Ella's shoulder I want everyone to know that those moments are only possible because of the amazing nurses and doctors at Primary Children's Hospital.  I want to tell everyone everything about every piece of our heart life in hopes that they will know how amazing my girls are, how lucky they are in their health, and that miracles happen.  

I'm almost positive there are some, if not many, that wish I would just talk about something normal.

But this is my new normal.  It's hard.  Incredibly hard sometimes.  But so worth it.  So, from this broken record, I will continue to wear my heart mom hoodie proudly, I will continue to brag about my miracle baby and her amazing sister, and I will continue to tell you about my experiences as Olivia's mom.  

Thankful

It's that time of year again.  The time of year everyone starts to remember the things they are thankful for.  The things that normally they don't think about until they are sitting around that table piled high with food that took hours to prepare.  

Now, don't get me wrong.  I know that many try to remember their blessings.  But I also know from personal experience that it's easy to slip into a stupor.  Let's call it the stupor of life.  It's what happens when life is just going.  Not necessarily going well or badly but just going.  The mundane takes over and what was once extraordinary has become normal and you forget to be grateful for it.  We try to remember.  But unfortunately we're stuck in these darn human bodies with these darn human imperfections and we don't always succeed.

I, stuck with my imperfect human-ness, have slipped into my fair share of life stupors.  I was content with life, and in my prayers I would express my gratitude but was I really genuine?  As a girl who is quick to point out her weaknesses, I will admit freely, nope, I sure wasn't.  And then I received this amazing gift.   A gift in the form of a sweet little baby with a perfectly broken heart.

When Olivia was diagnosed we were told, rather bluntly, "You will outlive your child."  Those words have forced me into a never-ending state of gratitude.  No one can tell me how long I will have her.  No one can tell me what our future holds.  So I am filled with a tremendous amount of genuine gratitude for every moment with my baby girl.

I have seen how quickly things can change in the heart world.  It's terrifying.  Then it makes me think of how quickly things can change in the regular world.  And it's terrifying.  And I am filled with a genuine gratitude for the moments I have with Andrew and Ella too.

How much does my Father in Heaven love me, to send me this beautiful gift?  I have had some rough moments in our journey, in which I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on.  But even through it all, I could look down at those beautiful big hazel eyes and be overwhelmed with the gratitude for a wonderful hospital, surgeon, nurses, medications, my own strength, the home I got to bring her home to, and every little bit of our lives that were once those very mundane things I used to forget about. 

This Thanksgiving season I am grateful for the lessons Olivia teaches me everyday.  Most specifically, the lesson of year round genuine gratitude.  

Our Story (the condensed version)

I guess it's time to introduce myself and how I came to start this blog.  

As established in my "About Me" I am Sarah.  I am a homemaker, seamstress, chef, musician, over-planner, self-critic, daughter, sister, wife, mother, and the list could go on.  There are many things that define who I am but over the past year and a half the one role that has dominated my life and personal growth has been "heart mom."  

It was a role I never thought would be mine.  When pregnant with my first daughter a friend's son was diagnosed with HLHS.  I was terrified my baby would have something similar but then she came out perfectly healthy.  In my mind, her perfect health ensured the perfect health of any future children and so I went into my second pregnancy believing that baby #2 would be 100% healthy and worry free.  And so I went into that twenty week ultrasound knowing that the only surprise we were going to get that day was gender based.  Even after twenty minutes of the technician trying to get a good view of the heart and not succeeding, I knew.  Even after a doctor was paged to see if he could get a good look, I knew.  It wasn't until the doctor and technician started whispering to each other that the thought crossed my mind that something might not be quite right.  But then I shook myself out of it and still knew everything was fine.  

It wasn't until the doctor sat down that it finally sunk in that something was actually wrong. 

"Your baby has a heart defect."  The six words that changed my life forever and initiated me into the heart world.  Those words filled me with fear previously unimaginable.  Those words filled my strong and ever-manly husband with a strong urge to vomit (he held back, thank heavens.)  

We waited two weeks for a fetal echo (not by choice) to determine what path lay ahead.  The diagnosis was given, Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrom, and along with it two options.  Comfort care, where we would make our daughter comfortable while we let her go.  Or a series of three surgeries.  We walked out to the car after talking with the cardiologist and finding out what kind of life our child could expect, what her future could hold, and the extensive time she would likely stay in the hospital and, without consulting my husband, took option #1 off the table.  I wasn't about to just let my baby go without fighting for her.  And I still do.  We have fought for Olivia through her Norwood at 6 days old, multiple hospital stays due to desatting, an unscheduled and somewhat emergent heart cath at 2 months old, NEC, her Glenn at 4 months old, GI not allowing her to take my milk, a bad reaction to Elecare, 6 failed swallow studies, feeding therapy, horrible reflux, a FEES study, and another surprise cath at 13 months old.  Through it all we've had many downs, but so many more ups.  

I've spent some time in my dark place.  More time than I would've liked.  But I made it through that part of the journey with the help of this glorious little face.

(Olivia at 1 year old)

And I couldn't be happier or more blessed.

"It is often in the trial of adversity that we learn those most critical lessons that form our character and shape our destiny." President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Exclusive

Have you ever wanted to be special enough to be a part of some exclusive "members only" type of club.  Sure, I did.  Something like that meant you had friends enough to make some exclusive club.  A club where there was something in common that bound you together.
Of course, in my mind I thought it would be something like the love of reading or "Piano Players Anonymous" that brought me into that special exclusive "members only" world.  I never dreamed it would be a club that, when you entered, everyone welcomed and apologized in the same sentence.
When we got Olivia's diagnosis I joined a support group as suggested by a dear friend who's son suffers the same diagnosis as Olivia.  At first I still felt like an outsider.  I was still pregnant and, other than the stress of the unknown, life was fairly uneventful and easy for us.  Others were dealing with hospital admittances, heart failure, and winter lockdown.  I asked some questions but mostly stayed in the background where I felt most comfortable.  Even in this exclusive club I felt like an outsider.  People responded to my questions on facebook but I didn't expect that anyone would remember who I was.
Then Olivia was born.  There was an outpouring from countless women.  I'd only met two of them but many more were letting me know that they were there for me.  They were there to cheer me on as I sat through 5+ hours of my baby's first open heart surgery.  They were there to cheer Olivia on as she fought to recover from having her little heart torn apart and put back together again.  I was shocked in the most amazing way.
Even after all that I was hesitant to get to know these women.  Many offered help and I refused all of them.  Eventually, a few broke through my resistance and forced their beautiful selves into my life.  We have spent nights in hospital cafeteria's binging on chocolate.  We have shared facial girls parties.  We have taken morning trips to the Temple.  We have cried together, for each other, and boosted each other's spirits when we felt we couldn't keep going.  These amazing women have become my nearest and dearest friends in so short a time.  I hate having a reason to be in this exclusive "Heart Mom" club but I am so incredibly blessed to have a way to meet all these amazing women.
To all my fellow heart mom's, I love you all!  I'm only sad I am not able to become besties with all of you...yet.  Good thing this club membership is a life-long one and I'll get my chance.  Thank you for the support, the love, the chocolate, the gabbing, the tips and tricks, the prayers said in our behalf, the strength sent our way, and especially each and every heart hug!

Seasonal Anxiety

Any of you other heart mom's suffer from this?  I guess it could be PTSD but there are others who suffer from PTSD who have gone through a lot worse so I like to call it seasonal anxiety.  Not sure what I'm talking about?  Well here it is.
January 20, 2012 we got the news that Olivia had a heart defect.  January of this year I realized I was having anxiety for no apparent reason.  Olivia was doing really well.  We had made it through two open heart surgeries, one heart cath, multiple NJ tube pulls (the girl has quick fingers) and I was finally getting ahold of life again.  As the 20th got closer and closer I got more and more anxious and then one day I finally figured out what was going on.
The anxiety continued on through February 2 (the day Olivia was diagnosed with HLHS) and I ended up pretty much shutting down until spring time.  Not horribly so.  I showered, took care of my girls, etc.  But after my shower I was right back in pajamas.  My house was incredibly cluttered (I pride myself on not being a dirty person, just cluttery from time to time.)
Once the sun started shining again, so did I!  Cheesy, I know.  I finally got myself together around April.  I started losing some of the pregnancy/hospital food weight, taking better care of myself all 'round, and being a more active mother.  This lasted for a couple months but the end of May came and the anxiety came back.  Olivia's birth, Olivia's first OHS, our first 2.5 week hospital stay.  All happened at the end of May/beginning of June.  Luckily, this time I knew what was going on and instead of shutting down I fought back with a vengeance.  I threw a huge party for Liv's birthday, worked out harder than before, made a life planning binder, and overall kicked butt.
Now, it's that time again.  10-11-12 The date of Olivia's Glenn.  The weather is getting cooler, the leaves are changing and what is my absolutely favorite time of year is now laced with anxiety.  I'm not shutting down.  I am once again throwing myself into everything I love about this time of year.  I am the matron of honor in a wedding this weekend, Ella (my oldest) will get an adorable Minnie Mouse birthday party in two weeks, I will be hosting a Halloween party, and I am actively planning a Autumn bucket list.
I am one of the lucky heart moms who have never heard the words "reduced heart function" "not make it through the night" or "code blue"  Because of this, doing is enough to save me from shutting down.  Until I need to be medicated (hopefully never) I will throw myself into life when the seasonal anxiety rears it's ugly head.  For me, it works.  Doing is what saves me.

Heart Mom

heart  (härt) n.  

1 the hollow, muscular organ that circulates the blood by alternate dilation and contraction 2 the central, vital, or main part; core 3 the human heart considered as the center of emotions, personality attributes, etc.

We call ourselves "Heart Moms" for many reasons.  It's a badge of honor we earn the second we hear the words "heart defect."  It's a badge of honor none of us want but all of us cherish.  

We earn this badge because our child's heart is broken and incomplete.  

I earned this badge on January 20, 2012 when the doctor sat down at my baby's twenty-week ultrasound and said, "Your baby has a heart defect."  It would take two week for us to learn that Olivia was missing half of her heart.  She was diagnosed with hypoplastic left heart syndrome.  I have since learned what a true heart mom is.

The best way for me to describe a heart mom is to follow Webster's guidelines.  

1  A true heart mom knows all about that hollow, muscular organ.  She knows what stenosis of the left pulmonary artery is.  A heart mom knows what an atretic mitral valve is.  She knows what the norwood, glenn, and fontan are.  She knows more about the heart than she ever thought she would or wanted to.  A heart mom knows there is no truly fixing a broken heart.

2  The core to being a heart mom is the care of your heart baby.  A heart mom drops everything to make sure this broken-hearted beauty(or stud) is as well as possible.  She makes sure there is hand-sanitizer in her purse, diaper bag, car, coat pocket, jacket pocket, pants pocket, tool box, toy box, mail box...A heart mom goes into hiding for RSV season during the early years, sends home special "don't get my heart kid sick" notes to students during the elementary years, and prays that if her heart child makes it to his/her later years he/she is responsible enough to take care of themselves when they do get sick.  Heart mom's know how to fortify breast milk, drop an NG tube, calorie pack any meal, and meticulously monitor weight gain.  She knows what it is to obsess about fluid input and output, sats, and the color of her child's hands and feet.  The core of a heart mom is stressful and exhausting.

3 The heart of a heart mom, the center of her emotions, is overworked.  The roller coaster that this journey sends her on with its highs and lows, loop-de-loops, and whiplashing stops.  The heart of a heart mom is often full to overflowing.  It's often breaking.  The personality attributes of a heart mom are as much a roller coaster as her emotions.  A heart mom can be stressed to the max, ready to throw a terrible-two size tantrum over unwanted news and be rolling on the ground laughing the next because another heart mom sent her pictures from her sleep study.  The personality of a heart mom includes a certain amount of selfishness, a great deal of charity, an enormous amount of stress, and a special amount of laughter.  

All this, and so much more is what makes a heart mom.  This is what has made me.  I have gone through a year of hell.  I have watched my Olivia go through two open heart surgeries and two heart caths.  I have been thrown around like a worn out rag doll by this heart journey.  Felt the highest highs and some pretty low lows and I pray every day that I never have to feel that lowest low.  I've learned more, prayed more, and done more in the past year and half than I ever imagined I would in my entire life.  This is a journey we enter unwillingly and a battle we fight to keep fighting.  We do this all for that perfectly broken baby.  Because that broken and incomplete heart is what complete's our own.