09/18/2025
When you picture meeting your baby for the first time, you imagine the “golden hour”. Those precious first moments where the world feels quiet and still, where you breathe them in and memorize every detail.
But when your baby is born with a heart defect, those first moments look so very different.
Instead of being placed on your chest, they are swept away within minutes to be stabilized. Instead of soft newborn snuggles in the safety of your home, you find yourself freshly postpartum, sitting beside a hospital bed, holding their tiny hand through wires and monitors. Instead of taking sweet newborn photos, you’re signing consent forms for surgery. Instead of resting, your body healing, you’re walking long hospital halls each day, your heart heavy and hopeful all at once.
But here’s the thing, those firsts still come. And when they do, they carry a weight and a sweetness that’s hard to put into words. The first time you hold them, after waiting and aching for that moment. The first time you take them outside, showing them the world they’ve fought so hard to see. The first time you bring them home, crossing a threshold you once only dreamed of.
And for the moms whose babies never made it to those firsts, who had to say goodbye before there was a chance for outside walks or homecomings, your love is no less real, no less fierce. Your firsts may have been the onlys: the first time you held them, kissed their cheeks, whispered their name. And those moments are etched into your heart forever. They matter. You matter. Your baby matters.
These journeys are not the ones we dreamed of, but they are sacred. Every first, whether here or only in memory, is a testament to love. A love that begins the moment we see that positive test and never, ever ends.
