As Hubby and I walked behind the nurse who was wheeling our 16-hour old baby boy to radiology, I just kept thinking to myself, This is not happening. Please oh please, not again.
Then as an afterthought, This walking thing really hurts.
But ever since the concerns about his head had been brought to our attention, it was hard not to notice the distinct similarities because his head shape and how Alayna's head had been.
Sure, from the front our little guy's face and head look normal. But the rest of his skull was very football shaped with no soft spot on top. It is quite noticeable from the back and especially when you feel it.
It was hard to be hopeful that it was nothing, but hope I did.
We have been told craniosynostosis is not genetic or hereditary so of all the things that I imagined could go wrong, having another cranio baby never even crossed my mind.
Not once.
Once back from radiology, we waited for the results.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, Hubby went home that evening to get the kids so they could come visit their new baby brother in the hospital.
I was sitting there, in the hospital bed, waiting for them to come back when the pediatrician showed up to give me the CT scan results.
I didn't want to know.
Especially not until Hubby got back.
I wanted to pretend this wasn't happening.
To just wish it away.
So I quickly jumped in and told the pediatrician that my husband wanted to be here and talk to him as well, and that he would be here any minute.
He said okay, but then proceeded to inform me that it appears our little man does indeed have sagittal crainiosynotosis.
Even though I think deep down I expected it, I still felt totally blind-sided and unprepared.
I wasn't given any time to digest the news however, because at that precise moment, an enormous ruckus arose from the hallway.
I could hear my kids through the closed door and down the hall.
Oh dear.
This was going to be interesting.
Perhaps I should have ordered body armor for our little man.
Indeed, it seemed the local zoo had arrived at the hospital. Next thing I knew, kids were spilling in.
And they were sure excited.
And hyper.
Very, very hyper.
The little guy wasn't quite sure what to make of all the ruckus.
After being reprimanded (lovingly of course), the boys were in no mood to cooperate for a family picture.
Out of the fifteen or so shots my mom took, these were about as good as they got.
We're all about realism here.
It was kind of funny actually that everyone showed up at the same time. My in-laws had arrived not long after Hubby left, then when he came back with the kids and my mom, my cousins showed up at the same time.
They, however, came bearing a large and tasty gift.
I have no hope of losing all this excess baby fat that is severely chunking up my face.
None at all.
I love it though. I almost don't want to eat it!
Almost....
In fact, every new nurse who came into my room spotted it instantly.
Must be that chocolate-o-meter that is naturally instilled in every woman. It was like they all had a homing device.
They always asked if it was real and I felt the need to be prepared to leap from the bed in case one of them had an inclination to make off with it.
I may have just had a baby, but my chocolate-protecting ninja skills were still in tact.
Anyway, once everything calmed down and everyone left, I was again alone with my precious baby.
And I cried.
I don't want to do cranio surgery again.
Hubby and I were still going back and forth on names at this point. I had wanted Joshua since I found out we were having a boy. So I was having a hard time letting it go. But I had to admit, Jackson seemed to fit him perfectly.
And I did like it.
So I finally gave the green light to put Jackson down on the birth certificate as we were getting ready to leave the hospital.
My two cranio babies.
I can only bite my tongue.
Yes, we know what to expect, and I think that that does offer comfort to a lot of people. But for me personally, that only makes it so much worse.
Many times when I look at him, I can't help but imagine him covered in scars, bandages, tubes, and IV lines.
When I nuzzle his fluffy hair I wonder if they'll have to shave it all off.
I imagine him in the pain and discomfort I remember Alayna having and it breaks my heart.
I HATE knowing what to expect.
I am grateful it's not life-threatening and I do know there are far, far worse things. Believe me, Primary Children's has a way of humbling you. And I am grateful that there is technology and skilled surgeons that will take of my baby.
But it still down-right sucks.
There is a chance his surgery will be different than the one Alayna had. If they do it before four months old they can so a far less invasive form of surgery, but he would have to wear a helmet for a while.
But until we hear back from the surgeon at Primary Children's we won't know what our options are.
I promise to try and keep my blog updated as we go along.
In the meantime, we would appreciate any prayers on behalf of our sweet little Jackson.
Love him.
You can read about Alayna's surgery HERE.