The Anonymous Donor

One day, my child fell very ill and needed a heart transplant because she had a heart condition called CHD or Congenital Heart Disease. The doctors said it would never get to the point where she would need a transplant but, I guess they were wrong. My husband and I have been worried sick since she has been on the transplant list for 3 months, and no donors have come to light. That’s when we got the call we had been waiting for from the hospital; it was a bittersweet call given we knew our daughter would have a fighting chance to have the life we hoped for her. Yet, the donor’s parents were seeing their dreams for their child end tragically. My husband and I cried both happy and sad tears that day. We were told that the donor wanted to stay anonymous for 12 months following the procedure. I went to bed that night curious, wondering who it could be. But in the end, I was grateful my daughter was going to live. We were scheduled to take her to the hospital that morning for the transplant. I went to bed feeling like I could throw up. I finally fell asleep at 10:30 and woke up to the painful sound of my alarm at 2:45 the following morning. At 3:00, I went to wake my daughter so she could get ready. She told me, “Mommy, I’m nervous for today,” with tears in her eyes. “Baby, I’ll be there the whole time. Nothing is going to happen. These are some of the best surgeons,” I replied hoping it would make her feel better. “Ok, Mommy. Love you,” she said, which made my heart swell. “I love you too, baby. Start getting ready,” I said as I walked out with tears in my eyes.

I finished getting ready, and my husband was still sleeping, so I didn’t want to disturb him. I got her things packed up and drove her and me to the hospital. As we were driving to the hospital, my mom called me and said to wish Isabell good luck. So I said, “Isabell, Mimi said good luck,” in hopes it would cheer her up. “Thank you, Mommy,” she replied, sounding sniffly. I finally got to the hospital 10 minutes before check-in, and that’s when the nurse saw my daughter and immediately took us back to a private area, where there were toys and puzzles for my daughter to do, along with some of her favorite coloring pages with animals on them (and Taylor Swift). These small acts of kindness just made me realize how many people love and care for my daughter. I needed to use the restroom, so I excused myself and went while my daughter stayed and played with a few of the toys they gave her. After I left the room I began to cry for quite some time because I was nervous about my daughter, and in general, just really wanted everything to go well. After I stopped crying I went back in to say I love you one more time to my daughter before she went back. I sat in the waiting room for what felt like forever….I waited and waited and waited. My husband walked in to sit with me at 7:30. I nuzzled up to him and cried for about another hour. Until the nurse came over to me and said,

“Are you Mrs and Mr Marks?” 

“Yes, we are. Is everything with Isabell ok?” I asked concerned.

“Yes, everything is fine. The surgery is going a little longer than expected,” She replied sounding like she understood what we were going through.

“How much longer do you think it will take?’ I asked wanting to cry more.

“About another 2 and a half hours,” She said with a little hurt in her voice.

“Ok, thank you,” I said in reply as she walked away.

My husband and I decided to go to the store and make a gift basket for her when she got out of surgery. When we got to the store I bought her favorite candy, gift cards to her favorite places, and some of her favorite activity books. When I got back to the hospital, she was almost out of surgery; my husband and I waited another 30 minutes. After what seemed like never-ending waiting, we were called back to see. Our daughter was still sleepy from the anesthesia, but she was able to muster up a faint whisper. She said, 

“Mommy, Daddy, I had the best dream,” She said in a sweet soft voice.

“Well that’s good to hear baby,” I replied.

“We brought you something sunshine,” My husband said softly.

“What is it, Mommy?” She asked me softly.

“It’s a little gift basket for being such a brave girl,” I said in a happy whisper.

“Thanks, Mommy and Daddy,” She said in a soft sweet tone again before drifting back to sleep.  We said, “You're welcome, baby,” as my husband and I left her to rest. 

After a couple of days, we got to finally take her home, and then 2 weeks post-operation she began her physical therapy. During her initial recovery, I could not stop thinking about the donor and their family - the funeral they planned and attended, the empty room in their home, and the hole in their hearts. My heart ached so badly for them and the life they were now mourning. Nearly 18 months after the surgery, we received a letter in the mail from an address we did not recognize. My heart sank as I began opening it, both curious after all this time and devastated that someone had to even write a letter like this given I could just feel in my gut that this was *the* letter.  “Dear, Emily we loved our daughter with all of our hearts – she was a fierce little girl who loved her life and who lived it to the fullest. She had an infectious laugh and gave the best hugs.  Honor her memory, and her heart, by living your life to the fullest. Our daughter would be so thrilled with this final act of kindness she could provide.” As I finished the note I cried and cried; my husband and I just held each other basking in gratitude for this amazing gift our family had been given. The sacrifice of this little girl, and her family, continues to be our guiding light in how we live, and love, in our lives.