It’s been said that giving birth to a child with a heart defect is kind of like planning a trip to Italy. You go through months of planning and research, learn a few handy phrases and pack your bags for the big day. But when travel day arrives, your plane lands and your stewardess looks at you and says, “Welcome to Holland.” You’ve planned for months to visit the beautiful country of Italy, but instead you’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay. It’s not like Holland is a horrible, disgusting place, it’s just different. So you have to adjust. You buy new guidebooks, learn new phrases and meet a whole new group of people you wouldn’t have met in Italy. After you’ve been there awhile, you adjust and realize…Holland has tulips!

I landed in Holland almost 23 years ago. I was at my final doctor’s visit – 39 weeks pregnant and hopeful of being induced. The office performed an ultrasound, and after seeing visible concern on my doctor’s face, I knew my plans were changing. The doctor informed me that my baby had only three chambers in his heart – his tricuspid valve never formed. The next 24 hours were a whirlwind of activity. I was whisked away to see a pediatric cardiologist who informed me that my doctor potentially saved my baby’s life. Although it was scary to think about what we were getting ready to experience, it was comforting to know that the cardiologist knew what was wrong and could thoroughly explain the steps to treating tricuspid atresia. Three days later, I found myself sitting in the OB unit at The Ohio State University surrounded by a team of specialists, waiting for the birth of my son, Merrick.

After living his first five days in the NICU, we were able to take Merrick home. We spent days and weeks visiting the hospital for check-ups, waiting for the right time to begin his treatment. At five weeks old and with an oxygen saturation level of 60 percent, Merrick had his first open heart surgery. Through the next two years, Merrick had two more open heart surgeries, and unfortunately, after both of those procedures, he developed staph infection – which resulted in more surgery. At discharge, the nurses would train me to prepare a sterile field – I was taking my son home and it was my responsibility to be his caregiver. It was gut-wrenching to peer into his chest with his rib cage visible as I learned to pack the cavity with sterile gauze.

Merrick is now 22 years old. How has his heart defect altered his life? First, it affects him physically. He visits his cardiologist on a yearly basis, has taken aspirin since he was just a few weeks old and he’s always short of breath. He takes it in stride when I panic about his blue lips or nail beds. 

Secondly, it has affected him mentally. He wonders what it would be like to take a jog around a track, play “shirts and skins” without the embarrassment of his scar-ridden chest, take a trip to Cedar Point to ride the newest roller coaster or go to sleep without the fear that he may not wake up in the morning.

As a mom, I see the “Merrickal” of his life. Even though congenital heart disease still remains the number one killer of infants in America, advancements in medicine have given my son a second chance. His story has spread a message of hope. Through my journey in Holland, I met people I would have never met, learned many valuable lessons and have become appreciative of the little things that so many take for granted. Although a trip to Italy would have been great, I’m thankful I was able to enjoy the tulips in Holland!