Yesterday marked exactly one year since Madeleine’s first brain surgery. One year since one of the most difficult days of my life.
Once we knew Madeleine was in trouble – once we figured out that her brain hemorrhage wasn’t going to self-resolve, once we knew that the ventricles were dilating, once we knew that she needed help – things moved pretty fast. Faster than I was prepared for. We were sent to another hospital, a new place that functioned totally differently and where nobody knew my little girl. Matt was out of town on business, which was terrible, awful timing, and I felt terrified and alone. And that day, the day of her surgery, while I waited for an update and tried not to think about my impossibly tiny baby lying on a table while someone cut into her skull, it really hit me for the first time that maybe things would not be ok. Maybe it won’t all work out in the end.