ST.Born With a Broken Heart but an Unbreakable Will — Collins’ Journey Through Surgeries, Strokes, and Survival

Collins was born on June 18, 2021, a date her parents will carry with them forever.
She arrived wrapped in love, tiny and beautiful, unaware that her heart was already fighting a battle far greater than her size.

From the moment she was born, joy and fear existed side by side.
Her parents felt the overwhelming love that comes with welcoming a child, but it was quickly shadowed by concern.

Doctors soon confirmed what no parent ever wants to hear.
Collins had been born with Tetralogy of Fallot, a complex and serious congenital heart defect.

Tetralogy of Fallot meant that her heart could not pump oxygen-rich blood through her body the way it should. Her tiny heart was working harder than it ever should have had to.

Suddenly, the future her parents imagined shifted dramatically.
Instead of dreaming about milestones and firsts, they were learning medical terms and treatment plans.

They listened carefully as doctors explained what lay ahead.

Surgeries, interventions, and uncertainty became part of Collins’ life before she even left the hospital.

At just seven days old, Collins’ condition worsened.

Her fragile body struggled to cope with the demands placed on her heart.

Her parents watched helplessly as she was rushed back to the hospital.
Fear tightened its grip as they followed behind, hearts pounding.

Doctors acted quickly, knowing time was critical.
A procedure was performed in an attempt to stabilize Collins’ heart and give her a fighting chance.

Seeing their newborn connected to machines was devastating.

Her parents felt torn between hope and terror with every beep of a monitor.

They spent hours at her bedside, whispering promises she could not yet understand.

They told her she was strong, that she was loved, and that she was not alone.

For a brief moment, the procedure brought stability.
But everyone knew this was only the beginning.

By the time Collins was just one month old, her heart could no longer wait.

She needed open-heart surgery to repair the damage caused by the defect.

Handing a one-month-old baby over to surgeons is a pain that defies description.

Her parents kissed her tiny forehead, praying she would come back to them.

The hours in the waiting room stretched endlessly.
Every minute felt heavier than the last.

When the surgery ended, doctors delivered cautious news.

The repair had been done, but recovery would be long and uncertain.

Collins was moved to intensive care, her body exhausted from the trauma.
Her parents finally saw her again, surrounded by tubes and wires.

The relief of seeing her alive mixed with the shock of how fragile she looked.

They held her hand gently, afraid even the smallest movement could hurt her.

Recovery was not smooth.

Complications began to emerge, one after another.

Collins suffered strokes, a devastating setback no one had anticipated.

The news shattered her parents, who now feared not only for her heart but for her future.

They were forced to confront questions no parent should ever have to ask.

Would she walk, talk, or live without significant limitations?

As if that wasn’t enough, feeding became a daily struggle.

Collins’ body had difficulty coordinating the simple act of eating.

Feeding tubes replaced bottles.

Weight gain became a constant concern.

Her parents learned how to measure progress in ounces and milliliters.

Every small gain felt like a victory worth celebrating.

Hospital stays became frequent and long.

Home began to feel like a temporary stop rather than a safe place.

Just when it seemed things might settle, Collins faced more challenges.

Her heart continued to struggle despite earlier repairs.

Doctors explained that further surgeries were unavoidable.
The words felt heavy, even though her parents had begun to expect them.

Collins underwent additional heart catheterizations to assess and support her heart function.

Each procedure carried its own risks and required immense courage.

Eventually, she faced not one, but two more open-heart surgeries.
Her small body endured trauma after trauma.

Each surgery required her parents to relive the same fear.

The same waiting rooms, the same prayers, the same uncertainty.

And yet, Collins continued to fight.
Again and again, she surprised everyone.

Her resilience became impossible to ignore.
Doctors spoke of her strength with quiet admiration.

Nurses watched her closely, amazed by her determination.
They saw a child who refused to give up, even when her body was exhausted.

Collins’ parents learned to live in a state of constant vigilance.

They became experts in her care, her medications, her warning signs.

Sleep came in short, restless stretches.
Peace felt fragile and temporary.

Still, love grew stronger with every challenge.
Each setback deepened their bond with their daughter.

They celebrated milestones that others might overlook.
A stable scan.

A successful feed.
A day without complications.

These moments mattered more than anything.
They were proof that Collins was still moving forward.

There were moments of deep exhaustion and grief.
Moments when the weight of everything felt unbearable.

But there was also hope.
Hope born from Collins’ ability to endure.

Her laughter, when it came, felt like medicine.
Her eyes held a spark that refused to dim.

Collins did not understand the complexity of her condition.
She only knew the comfort of familiar voices and loving arms.

Her strength was instinctive, not learned.
She fought because that was all she knew how to do.

Over time, progress came slowly.
Healing was never linear.

There were steps forward and steps back.
But Collins remained at the center of every decision.

Her medical team worked tirelessly, adjusting plans as needed.
They treated her not just as a patient, but as a child with a future worth fighting for.

Her parents became advocates, asking questions and pushing for answers.
They learned to speak up, even when fear made it hard.

Collins’ journey reshaped their understanding of strength.
It was no longer something loud or dramatic.

Strength became endurance.
Strength became showing up every day.

Despite strokes and surgeries, Collins continued to grow.
Her body bore the marks of her battles, but her spirit remained intact.

Each scar told a story of survival.
Each heartbeat felt like a triumph.

Today, Collins’ journey is still unfolding.
Her heart will always require careful monitoring.

Challenges may continue to arise.
But so will her courage.

She has already endured more than most people will in a lifetime.
And she has done so with a resilience that inspires everyone around her.

Collins is not defined by Tetralogy of Fallot.
She is defined by her determination to live.

Her story is a reminder that some of the strongest hearts are the ones born imperfect.
And that love, when paired with perseverance, can carry a family through the unimaginable.

Collins’ life is not just a medical journey.
It is a testament to courage, resilience, and unbreakable love. 

THE GOLDEN DOG WHO LEARNED TO BREATHE — AND TO LOVE AGAIN 1895