Terror

I have been trying to be upbeat, blogging about nothing in general. I haven't typed a single word about what is going on in our world this week. Somehow putting it into words makes it more real, and I have not wanted to face it. But everytime I blog about something that could be bad, it always turns out well. The superstitious part of me is hoping that will be the case this time.

Three days ago, I was outside with Evan when John came out to tell me that our family doctor had called. I got so frustrated because of the poor message John took and I blogged about that briefly here. At the time, I was awaiting a return call from the doctor to clarify the jumble John dropped in my lap. We are just on the heels of the spina bifida scare with Zachary. I really did not need this.

It turns out that Zach's newborn thyroid screen showed to be abnormally low. The doctor told me that it could be nothing, just a small remnant of his prematurity, and that a repeat test could turn out to be completely normal. But she also said what every parent dreads hearing: it could also be considered an indication of mental retardation later on as Zach grows. It can also be linked to cerebral palsy. She wanted us to take Zach to the lab to get some blood drawn, but wanted us to wait a few days. She wanted to give Zach's body a chance to normalize the levels, but the trick was to do the test early enough that, should the values still be low, we can get him in with a pediatric endocrinologist as soon as possible to prevent any damage to his still-developing brain.

A follow-up with my OB today helped to calm me a little. My blood pressure was on the high side, and she was worried about pre-eclampsia. I told her I had never had high blood pressure, and it was likely a result of stress. When I explained to her why I was stressed, after some prodding, she told me the same had happened with her nephew and everything turned out fine.

Of course I am me. Classic, textbook type A personality. I worry about everything. And I am terrified. I look at my baby boy as he is curled up on my chest, fast asleep. The face of a miracle. The face of an angel here on Earth. And my heart completely breaks. Amazing, isn't it? How a heart can break so violently withot a sound? Because all we ever want for our children is a good life, completely normal and free from obstacles. And because, to us, our babies are perfect. To have anyone say that something could be wrong almost feels like a personal attack. I am no different. Zachary is perfect, and the angels sang and the heavens opened up the day he was born. There is nothing wrong with my baby. How dare anyone suggest anything to the contrary!

Of course the way John and I are handling this is completely different. I worry about what is possible. John, instead, chooses to ignore any negative possibilty until he discovers it to be an actuality. This is for the best--two people like me in a family and that family would implode from all of the worry. I realize this. But he cannot understand why I burst into tears randomly at night when the house is quiet and I am left alone with my thoughts. And I cannot understand how he can be so....rational about something so serious in nature.

So tomorrow morning, we are taking Zach to the lab to get his blood drawn, and we will wait for a call that seems to be determining his fate. And I am hoping that, like the spina bifida scare, it will prove to be nothing and all will be okay. But a part of me wonders if I really get to be that lucky. He escaped a horrendous pregnancy unscathed. The scare with his spine turned out to be nothing at all. Do we really get another near-miss???

Of course, should we hear somethng different than we hope, we will still love him. He is still our miracle baby, and I will lay down my life to give him the best life possible. He will still be my perfect son. If this is a test from some higher power, I will pass with flying colors, somehow, some way. It is just a test that will crush my very soul in the process.