How do you say thank you to the men responsible for saving your sons life? Here is my attempt:

Dear Doctor Mavroudis and Doctor Backer,
I have spent the weeks since Parker's surgery trying to envision this thank you letter. Even now as I am writing I am completely lost for words. Weeks keep rolling by while my family moves further and further away from the reality of your world. With every day that goes by I spend less time remembering when we found ourselves thrown into the middle of it. I look at Parker now and just revel in his baby-ness and almost forget his beginning. I almost forget...but then I watch him take a deep breath and remember how terrifying the moment was when they took the breathing tube out and his little body laid limp until he took that breath on his own. I walk in and see him sleeping and remember the first night he went to sleep with nothing taped to his face - he was beautiful. I see my husband lift him into the air while he laughs and remember how careful and meticulous we used to be when moving him because he was connected to so many tubes and wires. No matter how many weeks, months or years go by, I will never forget. I will never forget how strong Parker was and I will never forget who is responsible for saving my sons life.
I spent the last twenty weeks of my pregnancy living with the fear that Parker would not be ok. I used to dream, every night, of the moment you came out to tell me the surgery was over. Sometimes Parker lived and sometimes he didn't. I spent every single day knowing that there was a 3% chance my son would not come home. At that point it 3% is the same as 95%. The fear is absolutely comsuming. All of my energy was spent in making myself get up each day and pretend to have faith.
It is amazing to live without that fear now. The life we live is amazing. We are almost whole again. We have almost moved on.
Sometimes late at night when the busy day can't distract me - I am there again. I hear the beeping monitors, the nurses whispering quietly outside our room - trying to give us space so we can pretend that we have some control over our son, all of the wires - I will never get the image out of my mind, the other children you see out of the corner of your eye as you walk down the hall - some of the stories still haunt me and I wonder if their families were as lucky as ours.
I remember so well the morning of surgery. We were in the big room with all of the empty beds lined up and you, Doctor Mavroudis came in. You were wearing your scrubs and hat. It was such a surrel moment. I wanted to scream to you that this baby was different than any other baby you had ever operated on - that I loved him more than any mother has ever loved their child and you really really really had to do your best here. I knew I couldn't do that. I wondered what you ate for breakfast that morning - I wondered if you were worried or if this was routine to you - I wondered if you knew the power you had. Your hands...YOUR hands would keep my son alive ... or not. You commented that he was a good size. You whispered to some people in the corner and then as quickly as you came - you left and they took Parker with you.
My family sat in the waiting room. A mother was crying because her daughter was having tubes put in her ears. She was so scared and worried. I did not have it in me to tell her that you were holding my sons heart in your hands. But you were - my family just sat there while you actually moved his aorta and pulmonary artery - while you actually moved his cornary arteries and reattached it all.
When it was over, Doctor Mavroudis, you came out and told us that everything was ok and that the surgery went as expected. I could not believe that was it - weeks and weeks of worrying and in 5 hours everything was "as expected". I asked you three times if everything was ok in as many ways as possible trying to let it sink in that he really was going to get to come home with me one day. You finally said "I can not tell you any other way - he is fine". It was not that simple to me. I said "thank you" and thought about how insuffient that was. What do you say in that situation? There are not enough words. There is not enough sincerity and there is not enough gratitude.
It has been over three months since that day. We are probably a distant memory to you. You see so many babies and children with broken hearts. Our day was just another day in the office for you. It wasn't for us. We are forever changed. We will never look at the world the same way again. I will never look at Parker or any other baby the same again. We are smarter, tougher, sadder, but more joyful because of what we know now. Our son's heart is beating and beating every minute - he is healthy and he is alive. Each beat his heart makes is a testament to your skill and knowledge - and to our gratitude. Thank you - thank you - thank you a thousand times.