Chapter 2 - The Monster

August 15, 2000. I was a little over seven months pregnant and had driven myself to one of many routine ultrasounds. Ready for an always exciting first-hand glimpse into the mischief our precious bundle was up to, I had geared myself up for a tiny ounce of disappointment knowing beforehand that this one would be just a bit different. With the circumstances of me having a sister born with heart defects, my doctor had arranged this visit to be preformed by a cardiologist, Dr. Luciana Young, to focus on the heart. Other ultrasounds had proven normal, but the doctor wanted to be thorough and I felt comfort in that. Comfort enough that I decided I could travel the 30 miles myself to the appointment so that Chet could stay home with Riley. After 45 minutes of an oddly silent Dr. Young, gliding the smooth jelly-covered probe around on my large gestating belly, I was relieved when the awkwardness was interrupted and she finally spoke. My ease however was short-lived due to the weight her 4 short words carried. “We need to talk.”

I am sure everyone has those moments where life socks you in the stomach and you feel as though for a brief moment you can’t breathe. Time seems to stand still. As I drove the long, busy freeway home that day, Chet never seemed farther away. Cars appeared to speed by, not noticing me as if I were trapped in some other dimension—a hesitant one moving parallel to everyone else allowing me to watch the rest of the world continue on with business as usual, except at a faster pace than I ever remembered.

“L-Transposition of the great arteries is a complex cardiac malformation with ventricular inversion and discordance of both atrioventricular and ventriculoartirial connections.” This is what Dr. Young and the internet told me was wrong with my baby. But all that I heard was that my baby wasn’t “perfect”, and then the worry kicked in.

October came and so did our second gift from God, 3 weeks early. Connor, AKA Conster Monster, or the C-Monster, swooped into our lives in a mad dash, all eight pounds six ounces of him, with a little help from the delivering doctor, a medical student, multiple nurses, a cardiac team awaiting in the wings to whisk him away, my mom, my Chet and apparently an anesthesiologist. At least I paid a bill for that later, but don’t recall his services being as successful during the blessed occasion. Everything about the moment, from the time I started pushing, seemed rushed. Time had picked a perfect occasion to play catch up all at once from two months prior. And then, in a flash it was over and I could finally breathe, everything was going to be ok. He was here, in doctor’s knowledgeable hands and my heart-felt prayers.

“Does he ever shut-up?” Grandma Bonnie had asked of our newest addition. She had been so great to come and help out that first week we were home. It appeared that Connor might have been expecting something different upon arrival into this world. He may have even been a bit disappointed it seemed, for out of his mouth on a consistent basis was not an adorable cooing, heard frequently out of the mouths of babes. It was an irritated sounding grumble. I had supposed I was already a disappointing host to a highly anticipated event for him. That, or more likely he remembered precisely where he had just come from and whom his company had been a short time before and was missing the angels.

From day one, he gave me a run for my money. I don’t believe I have ever in my life seen a baby puke as much as he did. He didn’t know the meaning of “cry himself to sleep”—even after trying everything else we could think of to get him to that peaceful state. He was addicted to a binky, a blankie and a bottle. He didn’t like other people and would cry uncontrollably when around most. And looking back I am convinced that this was my Father in Heaven’s way of helping me forget at times that there was anything different about Connor.

The Monster’s personality has changed a bit over his brief 7 years on earth; although, he still makes it known loud and clear when he is uncomfortable or hungry. He is spirited and funny and an absolute joy to be around. He tries incredibly hard to make us proud and, again, I find myself learning so much from someone nearly a quarter my age and size. I have learned that there is something to be said for taking pride in a job well done; I have learned that size does not determine the things a person can accomplish if you stick your mind to it; I have learned that “it is fun to be funny.” And finally, I have learned that even if people tell you that you aren’t “perfect”, your mom will always believe you are.

Thankfully, to be continued...