Thursday, April 24, 2008

Titles are hard to come up with.

Ok, still feeling garbage-like, but whatever. Sorry for the non-existent posts this week, between illness, doctor appointments and jury duty, I've been at work for a total of one day so far this week. I think that might make it the best week ever, but that's neither here nor there.

So, Warren had his four month check up. And he's a solid 16 pound, 9 ounce potato. He's finally getting some height (more like the 60th percentile, rather than the 35th like last time), and is right on track with social and motor development. Then came the fun part.

At his two month appointment, the doc noted that Warren's soft spot was closing up a little too fast. He poked around a little more and determined that we'd take a wait and see approach and see where we were at in a couple of months. Since we heard this news I have made it my personal mission to NOT look up this condition and not obsessively poke Warren's head every 8 seconds. And I was pretty successful. Didn't look it up, didn't read every scrap of information available, listened to the doctor and only rubbed his head every 45 seconds.
But, after yesterday's visit, it's official: craniosynostosis. Now we're waiting to hear from the cranio-facial team to set up all the evaluations and tests to see if my perfect little biscuit needs to have his head cracked open and skull sutures broken. It's officially time to freak the fuck out.

After a few minutes of googling, I didn't find anything more than what my doctor had already said. Which is a good thing. He's a wonderful doctor, and the fact that he provided so much information without it being overwhelming is really reassuring. However, while searching, there were two hot-button phrases that freaked my ass out: birth defect, mental retardation.
Now, I know the first doesn't mean anything, and that the second phrase is unlikely since we are doing this so early and developmentally he's perfect. But jesus are those two really hard things to apply to your kid. And I can't stop obsessing about everything he does and says now. Will he stop reaching developmental benchmarks at some point? Will surgery change him at all? Will he stop being my happy little boy after being subjected to CT scans, genetic testing and god knows what else?

Fuck, I can't write anymore. I'm out. Maybe back to write some more tomorrow. Oh, and Maine's posting again for those who like laughing their asses off.

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