Her lips and cheeks had changed color from lack of oxygen, and her mother had felt a helpless weight on her chest as she watched her child struggle.
The doctors had made the difficult decision to intubate her to keep her safe, and from that moment, she had been able to breathe steadily, though the path ahead was still uncertain.
Tomorrow, she would undergo another cardiac catheterization to measure the pressures in her heart, another step in the long and arduous road to healing.
Her mother remembered the long nights spent staring at Melony, tracing the countless cuts, bruises, and bandages that covered her small body, and questioning silently why such suffering had to be endured by someone so young.
“Why, why does she have to go through this?” she whispered to herself, tears streaming down her face.
A few days ago, Melony had whispered with a small, trembling voice, “Mommy, I’m scared.”
Her mother had squeezed her hand gently and said, “Baby, you don’t have to be. Mommy and Daddy will always be right here by your side.”
Even with those words, she could not imagine how terrifying it must feel for a child to face procedures that left her unable to move or speak, a world controlled by machines and tubes.
Through it all, the mother remained strong, hiding her fear and hope in equal measure, determined to provide comfort and courage for her child.
Melony loved Halloween, and even in the hospital, her mother decorated her room with little pumpkins and cobwebs, preparing for the costumes and celebrations she adored.
