Hearts and hope

Yesterday.

Children's Hospital.

Pediatric cardiology appointments for our two sweet girlies.

Anna came along, to help.  Because apparently, when you're seven, you have such a stinking big heart that you want to be there, at the hospital, with your sisters.  Yeah, my eldest daughter pretty much rocks.

We were there for SIX HOURS.

Six hours, people!

EKG's (abnormal, of course) necessitated echocardiograms.  For which Mekdes (above) had to be sedated.

And it turns out that Tigist has a PDA that needs to be corrected by a procedure of sorts.

And Mekdes has Incomplete AVCD that needs to be corrected by, well, heart surgery.

The cardiologist, after explaining all of his findings to me, paused a moment and asked the question I have a feeling we'll be getting a lot:

"Did you, uh, know about these medical issues when you adopted your girls?"

Yes, I told him.

Yes, we knew they had Down syndrome. 

Yes, we suspected they had heart defects that would require heart surgery.

Yes, yes, yes.

We knew.

And, we knew we loved these girls.  We knew that God is good and all kinds of faithful.  We knew that adoption and life and parenting are messy, no matter what you do. 

Now, we didn't know how it would feel to have Mekdes look into our eyes and call us "Mommy", or "Abbabba". 

We didn't know how it would feel to see Tigist smile with her entire face, her entire soul, her whole being.

So, yeah, I spent all of yesterday on the cardiology floor of Children's Hospital.  And yes, two of my daughters need heart surgery.  Which just might kill me, because surgery obviously carries risk, and none of my kids have ever had surgery, and who would ever wish it on their sweet, precious little girls?  It's huge.  And terrifying. 

But honestly? 

I left that place filled with hope.

Because Mekdes and Tigist are {finally} getting the care that they need. 

That they couldn't get living in an orphanage in a developing country. 

And if that means I have to swallow my fear and put on my big-girl pants, so be it.

Thus I'm taking a deep breath.

I'm choosing hope.

And while I'm waiting for the surgeon to call, I'm relishing each and every time Mekdes greets me with "Mommy!" and a hug, and every time Tigist smiles and laughs from the depths of her soul.

Slowly, but surely, their hearts are healing.

And, there is hope.