When the day came that my son no longer needed a heart monitor, everyone was happy but me

As I look back on that fateful day in June 2014, when my seven-year-old son went into cardiac arrest, I am filled with a mix of emotions. The image of my husband leaning against the doorway of the pediatric ICU, his head resting on his arm, is etched in my memory. Inside the room, a team of medical professionals worked tirelessly to save our son’s life.

I remember the senior resident doctor, with his large gloved hands, performing chest compressions on my child. It felt like the world was spinning out of control, and I was struggling to hold on. The fear and uncertainty of that moment still linger in my mind.

But against all odds, the medical team successfully resuscitated him and put him on ECMO, a life-saving therapy that helped his body fight off the infection that had led to septic shock and multi-organ failure. For six days, he remained on ECMO, his body and the machines working in harmony to keep him alive.

Today, more than a decade later, my son is a healthy, thriving young man. The only visible reminder of his ordeal is a faded scar at the base of his neck, a testament to his resilience and the incredible care he received. But as we prepare for his transition into adulthood, I find myself struggling to let go of the trauma that has defined our lives for so long.

The recent call from the pediatric brain injury clinic, informing us that he was being discharged from their care, brought a sense of dread that I couldn’t shake. The safety net of medical services that had surrounded us for years was suddenly gone, leaving me feeling adrift and vulnerable.

I know that my son is ready for this next chapter in his life. He has overcome so much and is now thriving in every way possible. But for me, the transition is a challenge. The trauma we experienced has left a lasting imprint on my mind, body, and soul, and letting go of the security blanket of medical care is proving to be difficult.

As we navigate this new phase, I find solace in the familiar rituals of vigilance and monitoring. I know that it may not be the healthiest way to live, but it offers me a sense of control in a world that once felt so fragile. And as I watch my son grow and thrive, I am filled with gratitude for every moment we have together.

The journey from the brink of loss to the joy of survival has been a rollercoaster of emotions. And while the road ahead may be uncertain, I take comfort in the knowledge that my son is strong, healthy, and ready to embrace whatever comes his way. And as I lie awake at night, listening to the sound of his breathing, I am filled with hope for the future and the resilience of the human spirit.