I ran in the rain, down a hill, following Dave as he pushed the pram. I did not wish to be late, or drenched. Hospital parking is always a nightmare. I nervously pushed the lift buttons.
We waited with a television as it played day time soapies. Just as the plot was beginning to draw us in we were lead into a small white room. Emerson, undressed and weighed, was given an ECG. Sharp waves printed onto paper. We went back to the soapie, the drama heightened, the characters were also in a hospital. Our name was called.
In a dimmed room we lay Emerson down for an echo scan. She slept peacefully, her arms above her head and little fists clenched, as the specialist scanned her heart. He pointed out the make up of her heart, the chambers and the small hole between them which was signaled by the murmur. He calmly explained that it was quite common, around one in every two hundred and fifty births. I felt reassured, but still anxious. It's ok, but it's still a hole.
The hole lets blood from one chamber leak into another. Blood that has already been through the lungs is leaking into a chamber full of blood on it's way to the lungs, meaning her heart has to work a little bit harder than most. As the heart grows often the hole closes, generally between the ages of two and eight. However, one can live with such a hole ones entire life with no issue. Unless we notice a change in her breathing, were she to sweat profusely when feeding, or have an unexplained fever for several days which could be a sign of infection, there is really no cause for concern. It is simply a matter of letting nature take her course and having Emerson tested again at six months.
I am relieved and grateful, though I still have a small pocket of concern that I think I share with most mothers.
