His heart was broken

The aorta too thin

His skin tinted blue

His body fragile and thin

He wouldn't grow normal

Not like the other babies did

He needed an operation

He was only 9 weeks of age

I couldn't console him

With the breast milk he craved

He was nil by mouth

In the pre-operative stage

When it came to carry him to theater

I thought my heart would break

My little baby

So precious, so small

Leaving him, I ached

I paced and I waited

Four hours passing by

Then the phone rang

He's out of theater

In Intensive Care

Supported, safe and sound

My baby was ok

My babies heart was fixed

I ran down the corriders

As fast as my legs would go

Til I reached his side

Held his little hand

Wanting to hold him

Yet comforted by the relief I found

Taking him home was a blessing

A healthly little boy

With a scar as a reminder

Of broken hearts mended

And the tears we cried