In honor of February and CHD (Congenital Heart Defect) Awareness Month, I want to take a moment to talk about a very special heart hero in my life.
When he was born, he was blue. At first, it was chalked up to a difficult delivery. His mama was 41 ( considered “high risk”) so everyone assumed it was just the stress of birth. But something didn’t sit right. The next morning, his pediatrician walked in, took one look at him, and immediately knew something was wrong.
That instinct saved his life. After an extensive evaluation, the diagnosis came: pulmonary atresia.
Pulmonary atresia is a rare and serious (fatal if left untreated) congenital heart defect. In a healthy heart, blood flows from the right side of the heart through the pulmonary valve and into the pulmonary artery, where it travels to the lungs to pick up oxygen.
But in pulmonary atresia, the pulmonary valve never forms. Without that valve, blood cannot flow normally from the heart to the lungs to receive oxygen. So this, on top of the fact that he had gone almost 24 hours without oxygen, meant that time was not on his side.
At just four days old, he underwent his first open-heart surgery. Four days. While most newborns are being swaddled and photographed and passed around to family members, he was being prepped for a fight for his life. His surgeon had to essentially create what nature hadn’t, forming an opening where the pulmonary valve should have been so blood could reach his lungs. His parents were given the kind of words no parent is ever prepared to hear: the chances of him making it to his tenth birthday were slim.
The doctors didn’t stop there. They went on to explain that even if he survived, his life would look “different.” They weren’t sure how the oxygen deprivation would have affected his neurological function, and they said he wouldn’t have the same quality of life as other children. He wouldn’t be able to exert himself too much. He would need to be careful. Limited. Protected from anything that might strain his heart.
Imagine being told that your child’s life would have boundaries drawn around it before he even learned to crawl.
In total, he endured four open-heart surgeries to correct the defect: at just 4 days old, then again at 9 months, 13 years, and 18 years old. So while he blew past the 10 year mark, they were still filled with operating rooms and scar lines.
Four separate moments where his chest was opened and his heart stopped. His life quite literally placed in the hands of surgeons. And yet during those years, the hospital stays, the recoveries, the checkups, he did more than survive.
He thrived.
The same boy whose parents were warned he might suffer brain damage from oxygen deprivation, was later identified as gifted in high school. He didn’t just keep up, he excelled.
And against every prediction, every cautious prognosis, every whispered “be careful,” he built a life that looks nothing like limitation. The boy doctors once warned that he shouldn’t exert himself, met their caution with quiet determination and a simple, defiant response: “Watch me.”
Honestly, I couldn’t be prouder of my baby brother, Andrew Lin, who is now 34 years old, and living life to the fullest.
Today, he co-hosts a YouTube channel called Adventure Archives, an outdoor series he started with our brother, Bryan, and cousin, Robby, in 2009 where he travels across the country, and even internationally, exploring wilderness areas, teaching viewers how to forage, hike, and survive in nature.
He treks through forests and mountains like they’re home. He has stood at the summit of Mt. Whitney, and has come face to face with grizzly bears in the mountains of Montana. He pushes his body in ways most people wouldn’t dare. He runs nearly 5 miles a day. He also practices and is a black belt in Wing Chung, the same martial arts system studied by Bruce Lee. Honestly, I’m not convinced most people with perfectly healthy hearts could keep up with him. And this past summer, he had the incredible opportunity to travel to Croatia to attend a class for his martial arts — a full-circle moment for a child once told his life would be limited.
The child they said might have brain damage and not make it to ten is teaching others how to live boldly. He proudly wears his scar like a badge of honor (if you ever see him in a button up shirt, he purposely keeps the top half unbuttoned (or fully unbuttoned!) to show it off!)
At one of his follow up appointments after his last surgery, he was told that he wouldn’t need any more surgeries. His heart was fully healed and healthy. He still goes in for routine checkups, but as of now, his heart is fully healed, because of the care of his cardiology team, the wonderful support of our parents, and above all, the neverending grace of God.
My brother is my hero. And even though I am eleven years older than him, I have spent most of his life looking up to him instead of the other way around. I have watched him face operating rooms, scars, limitations, and statistics that would have broken most people, and he met them with quiet strength. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t seek sympathy. He just lives boldly, fully, and with a gratitude for life that most of us don’t learn until we’re much older.
I am constantly in awe of his accomplishments. Not just the literal mountains he’s climbed or the miles he runs, but the resilience he carries so effortlessly. He has taught me what perseverance looks like. What courage looks like. What faith looks like when it’s lived out instead of just spoken. He reminds me that the words “you can’t” are often just invitations to prove otherwise.
He may have been born with a broken heart, but somehow, he’s the strongest-hearted person I know.
Please click this link to visit my brother’s YouTube channel, Adventure Archives, that he co-hosts with our brother and cousin:
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