I have come to several conclusions: (1) It may be easier for me to blog now that I am back at work, since I have this glorious thing called a lunch break where I have time all to myself; (2) … Okay, maybe that first one is my only conclusion. Everything is a jumbled mess.
When Lis was in the hospital, she was jaundiced. She came home with a billi blanket. I thought the jaundice was terrifying, was paranoid about every second she was off the blanket, and wept over every heel stick. Looking back, I can see it was No Big Deal. I was exhausted and hormonal and everything else that being a new mom entails.
When Lis went for her first doctor’s appointment, her doctor felt a clicking in her hip. Concerned about infant hip dysplasia, we went to the specialist—a pediatric orthopedic doctor—for tests, sonograms, and follow up. I freaked. Quietly, and calming, in control every time I needed to be, but I freaked. Even though there was an easy fix (a diaper type brace), I freaked. Even though I know other people who had this problem and every thing turned out fine, I freaked.
Lis had her two month shots and about three hours later, had a scream fest. Want to take a guess? Yes, I freaked out. In a controlled manner, after she finally cried herself into exhaustion. Also, there was the delightful incident, where, um, some lady parts fused together which resulted in weeks and weeks of estrogen cream, etc. Dee-lite-full.
Barring the inevitable time she fell/fell off something/broke a bone, I thought I had probably had enough freak outs to prepare me for the first cold/fever/throwing up/etc.
Oh, no. Oh no, my friends.
As Lis was sitting in her doctor’s arms for her four month check up, I watch her doctor run her fingers over Lis’s soft spot—then frown. She did it again. Frown. My brain went oh shit oh shit oh shit.
Where is her soft spot? Gone. Doctors can’t find it. The fear is that it has closed up, which is obviously bad for brain growth. I can’t even say the rest, because I am hoping for the best, while having nightmares about the worst. I’m waiting for a referral phone call from the children’s hospital and so help me if they don’t call within the next 24 hours, they are going to have an earful from me.
Oh, God. Please be okay.