The nurses came for Evan just shortly after 1, and took us with him to the preparation room, where the anetheitis took over, and after one injection his big blue eyes started to flutter and he was fast asleep in seconds.
And after a mothers kiss and a fathers 'see you soon' we left him to their care, and we will know in 4/5 hours how things go.
Having moved our suitcases to Ronald McDonald House and walked around for abit and trying to eat, we are now sitting in the parents waiting area of intensive care, and every time a mobile rings or bleeps four fathers all jump.
We have been waiting longer than I had expected, and Jenny can no longer hide her anxiousness, and I'm sure I'm not doing a great job at hiding mine, but the family of a child that has been badly burned and is currently in the theatre, has all the parents hearts going out to them while setting them on edge at the same time, we knew we were coming here today and Evan needed an operation and this was all planned, when they got up this morning the last thing on any of their minds was this and being here.
Shortly after 7 we get the go ahead Evan is out of theater and in intensive care, and it feels like a long walk to his space in ICU.
This is his third major operation, albeit his first heart operation, the sight in front of us is more a bundle of tubes, wires, leads, lines and monitors than our wee boy, and a sight that still brings that initial thought, "is he ok?" Which quickly changes to that wave of emotional relief, the Consultant has confirmed that all went according to plan but not to expect too much for the next couple of days.
And then the phone calls and texts to let everyone, friends & family, know how things have went and to thank them for their prayers and support, but first we need our "agreed lines" because if either family were to be told something different, when they compare notes there would be follow up questions.
Freya's flu spray (no longer a jab) seems to have went well as she came back and devoured a bowl of stew and two yoghurts, and can't understand why my mum won't let her talk to Lena on the phone, Lena happens to be my mums dog, and tomorrow is Play Group, so due to the hectic social calendar of a three year old we haven't been missed too much yet.
Back to recovery, Evan's nurse happens to be from Co. Clare who insists on calling everyone 'Betty', produces a three foot spirit level to ensure that a pump that is giving Evan medicine to slow his heart is level with his heart as he lies in the bed, like every other NHS professional she stays well over an hour after her shift finishes to ensure Evan is alright, and the most amazing thing of all in 15mins she has a great Ballymena accent.
But as he lies there Evan's no longer a wee baby but is stretching and filling out and he has been through more than many another, and in writing this my thoughts are with that other family as its true when they say "no matter how bad things are there is always somebody worse off than you, so count you blessings."
And I thank God because today I have reason to count mine.