My little man Tate

Tate was born in April, 2005. It was a pretty uneventfull pregnancy which was good. It never once crossed my mind that something could possibly be wrong with my little man. I still had the mindset that nothing bad was ever going to happen to me, I guess I hadn't crossed the threshold into adulthood were bad things are unavoidable and those who love God aren't without exemption. So there I was, just given birth to what I thought was a huge baby (I couldn't believe that person had just come out of me) watching the nurses look him over when I notice something strange. The two nurses that were checking him out kept taking turns listening to his heart. I thought huh, how many times does one need to do that. One of the nurses walks over to me and tells me that they would like to take Tate down to the nursery and have him checked out by one of the pediatric doctors. I guess I knew then that something was wrong.
The doctor came back to tell me that something was wrong with Tate's heart. He kept saying heart disease which made no sense to me but then it seemed like all things were a vacuum and I couldn't process what was going on. So they took Tate to Children's Hospital. Jason went with him as well as most of the family. A doctor from Children's called me a few hours later to tell me what they had found. Tate was born with a heart defect called Tetralogy of Fallot with Absent Pulmonary Valve. I just remember asking him "Is it fixable?" and he said yes. Tate spent his first week of life in the hospital and got to come home on my birthday. I can't even describe that week, I still tear up thinking about it. I don't think I have ever felt such brokenness, such devastation. But I do know it was the best birthday present ever.