When we found out we were pregnant with our third baby, I somehow felt we were testing our limits. Even though, I felt this baby would complete our family,we'd had 2 healthy children and 2 great pregnancies, I was sure we were testing our luck.
I'd gone to appointments with worry that spiked high blood pressure and held my breath until the heart beat was heard every time. And I'd sat through ultra-sounds with fingers and toes crossed. I didn't want much. The babies sex didn't matter, although I knew my tomboy of a princess Sophia would be completely challenged if it turned out to be another girl, competing for daddy's attention. So when it turned out to be a boy and a happy one at that, I'd felt like I cheated life's tendencies to throw you loops and turns once again and that someone must be looking down upon me. And then John's brief stint in the NICU and his daily struggle with reflux, DGE and the numerous tests he's have been through made me feel like maybe I was wrong.
Like I said before, I know there are worse things then reflux but nothing is worse than worrying about a child, waiting for a test result and looking for answers you're not even sure you are going to get.
His latest test, an Upper Endoscopy, took place Friday morning at CHOP after the Dr. moved up our previous scheduled date, probably hoping she could get answers too. And John handled it way beyond his 5 months. Taking it in like a champ, even my husband and I were shocked at his bravery. As the staff nurses entered the room to see this happy, toothless, smiling wonder, he flirted with them one by one, throwing chubby faced drooling smiles in their direction. He took needles like he'd had them hundreds of times before, no flinch, no wince, not even a look in the other direction to see what had happened, he just kept chewing on his Binky, smiling away.
And in the procedure room, as I held him and the meds took effect, he just dozed off, into his drunken state, comfortable, stable and trusting of what was going on around him.
More confident then I, the one who carried him into the procedure and signed the consent for for the doctors to sedate his little body to go poking around for answers.
More confident then I, who at the last minute, as the doctor dimmed the lights, and the team of nurses took their place and my husband stood by my side, doubted, in my quest to find out what irritability had been plagueing him, for a quick glimmer that I'd made the right choice.
And now we wait.
As the doctor returned to the room, he mentioned he noticed the small intestine seemed very pale in color, but the biopsy would tell us more. What does that mean? What is that? Anything? Something? My mind goes wild with thoughts, conclusions and diagnosis and my fingers go free on my keyboard as I search the Internet looking for answers that I don't find. And my thoughts dissect the doctors every word and expression.
I'd gone to appointments with worry that spiked high blood pressure and held my breath until the heart beat was heard every time. And I'd sat through ultra-sounds with fingers and toes crossed. I didn't want much. The babies sex didn't matter, although I knew my tomboy of a princess Sophia would be completely challenged if it turned out to be another girl, competing for daddy's attention. So when it turned out to be a boy and a happy one at that, I'd felt like I cheated life's tendencies to throw you loops and turns once again and that someone must be looking down upon me. And then John's brief stint in the NICU and his daily struggle with reflux, DGE and the numerous tests he's have been through made me feel like maybe I was wrong.
Like I said before, I know there are worse things then reflux but nothing is worse than worrying about a child, waiting for a test result and looking for answers you're not even sure you are going to get.
His latest test, an Upper Endoscopy, took place Friday morning at CHOP after the Dr. moved up our previous scheduled date, probably hoping she could get answers too. And John handled it way beyond his 5 months. Taking it in like a champ, even my husband and I were shocked at his bravery. As the staff nurses entered the room to see this happy, toothless, smiling wonder, he flirted with them one by one, throwing chubby faced drooling smiles in their direction. He took needles like he'd had them hundreds of times before, no flinch, no wince, not even a look in the other direction to see what had happened, he just kept chewing on his Binky, smiling away.
And in the procedure room, as I held him and the meds took effect, he just dozed off, into his drunken state, comfortable, stable and trusting of what was going on around him.
More confident then I, the one who carried him into the procedure and signed the consent for for the doctors to sedate his little body to go poking around for answers.
More confident then I, who at the last minute, as the doctor dimmed the lights, and the team of nurses took their place and my husband stood by my side, doubted, in my quest to find out what irritability had been plagueing him, for a quick glimmer that I'd made the right choice.
And now we wait.
As the doctor returned to the room, he mentioned he noticed the small intestine seemed very pale in color, but the biopsy would tell us more. What does that mean? What is that? Anything? Something? My mind goes wild with thoughts, conclusions and diagnosis and my fingers go free on my keyboard as I search the Internet looking for answers that I don't find. And my thoughts dissect the doctors every word and expression.
And we wait.
And I watch my bouncing baby boy smile, grow and develop. He now sits confidently, he's found his fingers and recognizes his name. He shakes his head, smiles when I enter the room and makes my heart melt every time.
And we wait.
Maybe we wait for something that isn't there.
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