When Waiting Feels Endless
In this post, I want to share a part of our journey during Imani’s recovery after her surgery. It was a time filled with hope and fear, with waiting and praying, and watching our baby fight over and over again. I share this because I know other parents may recognize themselves in these moments, and because writing helps me give space to everything we went through..
Imani’s recovery after her surgery did not go as we had hoped. Fluid had built up in her lungs and chest cavity. The doctors tried to remove it, but it didn’t work. They hoped it would clear on its own, and all we could do was wait, hope, and pray they were right. Days passed, but the monitor numbers stayed worrying. The fluid in her lungs eventually cleared, but the fluid around her lungs stayed. I had pleaded for surgery to remove it, but the doctors were afraid her weakened body wouldn’t handle it.
My husband and I lived between hope and fear. Every visit, we watched the monitor, seeing her heart rate drop from 110 to 88 or lower, then rise again. Her oxygen levels kept fluctuating. The doctors said it was likely from the breathing tube irritating her airway and planned to remove it soon, assuring us she would improve. Ten days after surgery, the tube was replaced with a nasal oxygen cannula. It was special to see her awake and to see her face without tubes. We were happy, but she still wasn’t stable. Her heart rate was irregular, her skin clammy and sweaty. Since the doctors didn’t seem worried, we tried not to worry too much either. That evening, we went home relieved, planning to return early the next morning. I remember feeling happy, wanting to fall asleep quickly so I could see her again. Just as I was drifting off, the phone rang. It was the hospital: Imani had gone into cardiac arrest and was being resuscitated. She was back on the ventilator and needed emergency surgery to remove the fluid pressing on her heart.
The world stood still. I called out to my husband, shaking and heartbroken, and we rushed to the hospital, not knowing if we would see her alive again. In the NICU, ten doctors surrounded her incubator. I will never forget that sight. All I could think was, “Is she gone? Have we lost her?” Imani was taken to the operating room, and we waited. Waiting felt endless, with each second stretching into an hour. Why couldn’t anything ever go smoothly? Why did our little girl have to keep fighting new complications again and again? It was so heavy that it felt like we couldn’t breathe ourselves. After the surgery, the surgeon came to tell us that they had successfully removed the fluid. I felt relief, but also anger. I had pleaded for this surgery earlier, and I couldn’t help but think that maybe her cardiac arrest could have been avoided.
When we saw Imani again, she was swollen and surrounded by cables and beeping machines. Because she had been resuscitated for over a minute, there was a risk of brain damage. She was connected to an EEG to monitor her brain activity. We saw her having seizures, which made us even more worried. All we could do was be there for her. We sat with her, held her tiny hand, and let our tears fall silently while the world continued around us. This had become our life: watching, hoping, praying. It felt so unfair that our little girl had to go through all of this.
This period showed us just how fragile life can be. Every beep from a monitor, every small change in her numbers, every decision by the doctors felt enormous. I often thought: Why does a baby have to go through so much? Why our little girl? It’s not fair, and it’s okay to say that out loud. Yet it was also a time when we saw how strong Imani was, even in her tiny body. We tried to mirror her strength by simply being there: holding her hand, saying her name softly, continuing to believe that she would keep fighting.
If you are in a season of uncertainty with your baby, please know that your feelings are valid. The fear, the hope, the grief, and the love — all of it is allowed to be there. And if you ever feel like sharing your story, you are welcome to share it here. We don’t have to carry these moments alone..
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