December 23, 2015. I went in for an ultrasound expecting a day filled with happy tears and excitement — but that day did not go as we hoped.
I was 12 weeks pregnant when we were told something was wrong with my baby’s heart. The doctors told me she would not survive. “You will miscarry,” they said. I left the office heartbroken and in tears.
But my baby kept fighting. She made it to 18 weeks as her tiny heart grew slower and weaker. With every new appointment came another diagnosis, another wave of heartbreak, and more tears.
I was told, “She’s going to be stillborn, save yourself the pain.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you come back next week and she’s stillborn.”
There was very little hope left for my baby.
Even the top children’s hospital had never seen a heart like hers. They had seen each defect on its own, but never all of them together.
It was up to her to fight. All we could do was pray.
We chose to celebrate our baby’s life no matter what the odds were. We had a gender reveal, a baby shower, and even prepared a beautiful nursery.
Through repeated heart failure and a heart rate as low as 40-50, our baby girl fought all the way to 37 weeks.
On June 14, I delivered her by C-section, and she was taken straight to Boston Children’s Hospital.
At just 6 days old, she had her first open-heart surgery. On July 21, we finally got to bring her home.
Since then, she’s had five more hospital stays and a few new diagnoses — but she continues to fight.
Her name is Clara Ray.
She is a miracle.
This photo is of her seeing snow for the very first time — and she absolutely loved it.
I can’t explain the emotions we felt watching that big smile spread across her face.
Pure joy.
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