A Gift for Mom! 🤍

 
 “Look at your baby!” the Labor and Delivery nurse exclaimed. My first child, a little girl, was here. I opened my eyes, which had been squeezed tightly shut during the final exhausted pushes of labor. I looked, and there was my baby being held near the foot of my bed. Her skin was a purplish hue and she was not crying. 
 
That moment was instantaneous, and my daughter was whisked away into the corner of the room where the Level III NICU team had been set up and waiting for her birth. Everyone was prepared for her arrival. We had found out at my Anatomy Scan at 21 weeks that my baby was a girl, and almost immediately after that we were informed that she had a serious congenital heart defect (CHD).
 
Even though we had the tentative diagnosis, no one could be quite sure how serious things were until my daughter was born. We had to be prepared for anything. We chose to deliver at a hospital almost an hour away so we could be in the care of the highest level NICU team available. We had toured a pediatric cardiac unit in an out-of-state children’s hospital so we could be familiar with it when the time came. We did our research and said our prayers, but we could not be prepared emotionally for this.
 
As I watched the medical team work on my newborn, my thoughts raced:
 
“What is happening?”
 
“Is she ok?”
 
“Why isn’t she crying?”
 
The words that left my lips could not keep up with the questions running through my mind. The next thing I knew our baby was being rushed out of the delivery room to the neonatal intensive care unit that was on the floor below. The doctors and nurses surrounded her moving bassinet as they hand pumped a bag into her breathing tube. They paused only briefly with her by my bedside, just long enough to allow me only a quick glance, before hurrying on their way. 
 
Later that day, my daughter was transported to the cardiac intensive care unit of the children’s hospital we had visited. She would be hospitalized for 66 days, during which time she had her first open heart surgery. This was a crash course in parenting for my husband and me, and not one that we could ever be ready for. There were ups and downs during those 9 weeks. We had days where we were filled with hope and days that wore us down with worry. 
 
At eight months old, our daughter would have her second open heart surgery with the guarantee of more to come. By age two, she would have a stent placement to bide more time before the next surgery. Our road was always going to be long, and we knew this.
 
Today six years have passed since my daughter was born. She is now a strong little girl who just entered Kindergarten this year. Over these years I have learned so much about what it means to be a mother and a parent of a child with special needs. I have learned that you can be stronger than you know possible when you have to be. I have acquired so much medical knowledge that I may be able to skip several courses if I ever attend medical school. Kidding about that one.
 
Also, during this time I gave birth to my second child and became a “Heart Mom” twice over. Yes, my second child, my beautiful baby boy, was also born with a CHD although his circumstances are much different than my daughter’s. You see, congenital heart defects are the most common birth defect, and are as common as Autism. This is a fact I never knew until I had to. It is quite likely that unless you or someone you know has a CHD you probably didn’t know either.
 
Since most people do not know a lot about congenital heart defects, people often have a lot of questions when they hear of my children’s diagnoses. Here are some things that you need to know about children with congenital heart defects:

1. They are 1 in 100. As I mentioned earlier, CHDs are the most common birth defect. In fact, approximately 1 in 100 babies are born with some form of a CHD. Chances are someone you know has been affected by a congenital heart defect.
 
2. Not all children with CHDs experience the same things. Congenital heart defects can range from mild to severe. My own children are evidence of this. While my daughter was born with an extremely serious heart defect that was detected in utero, my son’s CHD was not diagnosed until he was two months old. While my daughter’s condition required immediate and invasive intervention, my son’s condition has only required monitoring. While my daughter will need continued intervention and procedures throughout her life, as of now we are hopeful that monitoring is all that is necessary for my son.
 
3. They are just like any other kids. My children are just like any others. They like playing outside, eating junk food and watching television (unfortunately a little too much). They have the same thoughts, feelings, dreams and worries as any other children their age. Children with CHDs may or may not have physical restrictions. This will depend on their specific condition and circumstances. I am very thankful to say that at this point in time, neither of my children have restrictions due to their heart conditions and are free to participate in the same activities as their peers. 

4. They will need lifelong care. Unfortunately, there is no cure for congenital heart defects. There are “repairs,” but most people born with CHDs will need to have ongoing follow-up and treatment throughout their lives. Even if no further procedures are needed, monitoring will be a lifelong necessity.
 
5. They are strong, both physically and emotionally. Watching my daughter go through what she has been through has humbled me. Two open heart surgeries, cardiac catheterizations, stent placement, and numerous EKGs, echocardiograms and chest x-rays is a lot for any person, not to mention a little girl. These children are tough and have a fight in them that is incredible to see, and their resilience is awe-inspiring. 
 
My children have made me a better person. I learn from their courage and determination every day. I find my strength within them. They inspire and motivate me to appreciate the little things in life and to work to raise awareness in order to help others in similar situations. Most of all, they have reminded me to have hope and to always believe.
 

Mia Carella

Mia Carella is a stay-at-home mom and writer who lives with her husband and their two children. She likes reading, napping and spending time with her family. She dislikes cooking, cleaning and adulting in general, but absolutely loves being a mom. Her work has been published on Scary Mommy, Babble, Love What Matters, The Mighty and more. Read more on Mia's website, www.ThisMomWithABlog.com, and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagramand Pinterest.

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief
Woman holding fish

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief
Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage
Woman walking down path

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living
Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief
Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother.  People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way.  I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Woman and young daughter smiling

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief
Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

What No One Tells You about Losing a Sibling

In: Grief

Nobody tells you that when you lose a sibling, your entire childhood flashes before your eyes. There’s no better witness to what you experienced growing up than that one person who was standing nearby for all of it. And when they’re gone, a part of that childhood and a part of that story goes with them, because it was only ever known between the two of you. There’s no last chance to say, “Remember when?” or to laugh about the things that made you laugh to tears together, a million times at the kitchen table. There’s no last conversation about...

Keep Reading

Grief Didn’t Break Me, It Rearranged Me

In: Grief
Sad woman looking off to the side

I survived losing my father after his long, grueling battle with cancer. It was one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I had a front row seat to watch cancer pick him apart piece by piece. When you lose a parent, you lose a part of yourself. They say time heals all wounds, but you never stop missing the good ones, and there are days when it feels like it just happened. By the grace of God, I survived, but I will always miss my father. Then, almost a decade later, I lost the career that helped me...

Keep Reading

I’m Learning To Be Soft and Strong

In: Grief
Woman sitting and crying on floor

During the weeks we cared for my grandmother in hospice, survival mode felt necessary. There were medications to track. Visitors to update. Logistics to manage. I remember sitting on the couch that served as my makeshift bed and listening to the rhythmic hissing and puffing of the oxygen machine one night. While my mom showered off the day, I texted my sister updates and sent my husband a quick message of love. I could still smell the lavender candle we had lit earlier in the day to mask medical scents. The house was quiet, but my mind wasn’t. I was...

Keep Reading