I had one of those dreams last night that I didn't want to wake up from. I had dreamt that my son (now 12) was a full grown man and was moving into his own home. In the dream he was a sixth grade social studies teacher and was going to start a brand new school year within the next few days. As I was walking up the driveway to his home, arms laden with boxes from his childhood (army men, assorted pirate bric a brac), I could feel myself waking up from this dream. I could feel myself not wanting to wake up and fought so hard to stay in the dream. I wanted to see what my son looked like. I desperately wanted to see the man he would grow up to be.
When J was one week old he was diagnosed with a Ventricular septal defect (VSD). Basically, he was born with holes in his heart. I remember the night they discovered the holes. How I held my little baby and sobbed...was it something I did? Something I ate? It took so long for me to have a viable pregnancy. Was this some way that my body ruined his? The following day we went to a specialist who quelled my fears. J was a normal baby and toddler. Getting into a lot trouble but always a healthy eater. His monthly visits to the cardiologist were at first stressful then, as the holes started healing, the visits became few and far between. On October 3 2007, in his Kindergarten year, we were told that J would have to have open heart surgery. Definitely not the news we ever wanted to hear. There was too much blood pumping through his heart and the pressure caused by the last hole made an obstruction in the opposite ventricle. The doctors wanted to do the surgery immediately but because of illness it was postponed until December.
Eight hours.
The surgery that would repair my sons heart took only eight hours. I remember sitting in the waiting room, emailing the family with updates, crying, and praying that my little boy would come out healthy.
And he did.
The doctors removed the obstruction, repaired the holes (He found two more!) and my boy was good. All in all my strong little man had 8 holes in his heart. He recovered as only a little kindergartner could do- with lots of ice cream and popcorn and is now a healthy boy of 12. Although he is quiet and reserved I am so proud of the boy he's grown up to be. His scar is the only visible reminder of that day.
So in my dream when I desperately wanted to see my boy grown I did get a glimpse of the handsome man with the unruly brown hair. I looked into those beautiful brown eyes and said "Don't forget to send your students a letter introducing yourself!" Gotta love dreams.
