“I’m going to make your daughter’s heart stop.”

No parent is ever prepared to hear those words, but on Monday, that’s what Dr. Jacob Miller told my wife and me 24 hours before our daughter’s ventricular septal defect surgery.

To our credit, we came mostly mentally prepared. It didn’t actually occur to me that Olivia’s heart would have to be stopped, but after the jolt of being informed, it made sense.

Miller expected a 90-minute period with no heartbeat, during which time Olivia’s vitals were being controlled by a machine. After the surgery, Miller said 90 minutes was an overestimation, as it was more like 60 minutes her heart was on ice.

That faster-than-predicted result became a mantra for us this week, as our girl was ahead of every milestone by more than miles.

Avoiding all in-surgery complications, recovery began Tuesday night. Just as nothing can prepare you for hearing your daughter’s heart will be stopped, the same nothing can prepare you for seeing a 9-month old with IVs in her neck and arms, chests tubes, an array of other wires, and of course the dressing on her chest incision, making it impossible to do the one thing we wanted to do at that moment — hold her.

Night one was a difficult one. Though she was ahead of all the benchmarks, it was clear at times she was in pain, and there wasn’t a thing we could do about it.

As hard as that was, Liv ate her first bottle only hours after surgery. Eating her normal amount and begging for more, we obliged, only to suffer the consequences of a queasy tummy. Still, most VSD patients don’t eat much for the first day after surgery, so despite the minor setback, the night was promising.

By Wednesday afternoon, things were looking way, way up. Olivia was awake a fair amount of the day, and by the afternoon, we were getting smiles and play.

“We need to get a picture of her for the Facebook page,” our nurse said. “She’s a poster child for VSD surgery. We very rarely on day two get to see a baby smile.”

Olivia was doing so well, it was mixing up Dr. Miller’s days.

“This is day three right? Thursday?” he asked. “It’s only day two? If she keeps it up, we may have you out of here in a couple of days.”

I’m writing this at 11 a.m. Thursday, about three hours after we were transferred out of the ICU and into a recovery room. All of Liv’s tubes, less one IV and electrical wires that would be used in case of emergency.

For the first time in nearly two days, we got to hold her like normal, not having to untangle and twist and untangle some more. As scary as the feeling was on Tuesday, the relief felt on Thursday morning equated.

As we look toward the next few days, we hope to be home as soon as safely feasible.

My experiences with hospitals over my life have mostly been positive. This one reminds me a lot of when I would go to Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas as a kid for my prosthetics and amputee care.

A few things have set St. Louis Children’s apart in my mind. A newer tool for surgery, we got to communicate with the surgery nurse directly through an app called Ease. 

Similar to Snapchat, with messages only appearing for 60 seconds, we were informed of when the tubes were put in, when they started the repair, when they closed and when she was transported to the ICU.

The coolest part, though, was a photo and a video. The photo was of the patch used to close the hole in her heart, and the video was of her heart itself, beating inside her little open chest.

I must have watched that video 10 times after screen recording it. I just watched it again two days later and I am still in awe. How many people can say they have seen their child’s physical heart beating?

This experience has been frightening, anxiety-inducing and emotionally exhausting. However, it has also been uplifting, encouraging and exciting for what is to come with Olivia doing so well.

Again, my family and I cannot thank everyone enough for their thoughts, prayers, well-wishes and offers of physical and emotional support.

We went into this thinking we needed to be tough and strong for Olivia. But now, I realize she was the tough and strong one for us.

Kyle Troutman has served as the editor of the Cassville Democrat since 2014. In 2017, he was named William E. James/Missouri Outstanding Young Journalist for daily newspapers. He may be reached at 417-847-2610 or ktroutman@cherryroad.com.