The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

(Plus gratuitous baby photos)

A friend of mine posted on Facebook a couple of days ago that she was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, and I thought to myself - that would be a great way to describe my week. It actually all started way back at Violet's two-month appointment at the pediatrician. We had noticed a raised spot on her head with a tiny round bruise on top of it. After racking our brains trying to remember the last time we had dropped her on her head or hit her accidentally with a blunt object, we gave up and decided that we would just point it out to the pediatrician and hope that he didn't think that we were child abusers.

Turns out he did ask us when the last time we had dropped her on her head was...and when we said we honestly weren't child abusers he laughed and determined that it was a hemangioma. And we said, "A what?" The pediatrician explained (in a totally unconcerned and nonchalant way) that it's basically a harmless cluster of blood vessels that will grow larger before eventually going away on its own - no biggie - nothing to worry our pretty little heads about. So we didn't worry about her pretty little head and went on our merry way.

Then came the four-month appointment. We didn't even bring it up this time. I mean, we knew what it was and we weren't worrying just like the doctor said. No need to talk about it again...right? Wrong. Apparently different pediatrician in the same practice = completely different opinion on said bump. This one seemed to be a bit more concerned. "What's this spot on her head?" she asked. "Oh, that's a hemangioma. It's harmless. It'll go away on it's own. We swear we aren't child abusers. Oh, and we aren't worried. Dr. ____ told us not to worry." And then instead of a laugh and a shrug we were given a look. A concerned look. A concerned look and an appointment with a NEUROSURGEON. Just for, you know, a second opinion. And our worry free attitude may have started to falter a bit...

And while sitting in the waiting room of the neurosurgeon we may have started to worry a little bit more. It might have had something to do with the fact that they enjoy hanging photos and articles instead of artwork in said waiting room. You know - really interesting stuff about patients and their brain surgeries and seizures and things of that nature. Perfect reading material for an already worried mom with a tiny helpless baby with a bump on her head that may or may not be a hemangioma.

And the worry level may have risen again slightly when we were scheduled for a CAT scan. Because now the bump could be a harmless hemangioma OR apparently her skull could be fusing too quickly in which case she would need surgery. SURGERY on her SKULL. "But you know, don't worry," the neurosurgeon said, "it might not be that. It might be something else entirely." Sure...we're not worried at all...we're totally not thinking about anyone cutting into our precious baby's noggin. Riiiiiight...

So we went for the CAT scan. Violet was swaddled in a thick blanket to protect her from the radiation and to keep her wild baby thrashing at bay. She was then laid on a conveyor belt type thingy and a nice and very coordinated nurse fed her a bottle with one hand and dangled a toy in front of her with the other while singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider (her favorite song). I had the fun task of holding her chin to make sure that her head didn't move. It sounded like an impossible task - I mean, my baby is totally a mover and a shaker. She's not really into being still. But I think the crazy woman shaking the toy in her face while singing combined with the fact that she was on a conveyor belt being moved into a giant doughnut-shaped thing full of flashing lights seemed to have stunned her enough to keep her still for the thirty seconds it took to get the images. I breathed a sigh of relief and then moved on to figuring out how not to worry like a crazy woman until our appointment to get the results.

Turns out I found a great way to take my mind off of the whole your-baby-may-have-to-get-skull-surgery thing. On the way home from the hospital, I decided it would be fun to ram my vehicle into a telephone pole. Less than a mile from home. I mean, sure, I may have been on a residential street in broad daylight with no other cars on the road going at a speed of less than 15 miles-per-hour, but what's that to stop me? I have no other excuse than a gut reaction to a cat. All I remember is turning a corner and seeing a cat run out, and the next thing I knew there was a telephone pole directly in front of me and I. was. hitting it. I still can't believe it happened. I've never been in an accident before and this is probably the most ridiculous way to possibly get into one, but it happened nonetheless. Luckily I'm fine, the baby's fine, everyone's fine. Except for the car - totally not fine. A month to repair and 10k in damages will do the trick - thank goodness for insurance!

So in the craziness of finding another car to drive for a few weeks, talking to the insurance company, getting checked over at the hospital, and feeling ridiculous in general, I definitely dwelled less on hemangiomas and skull surgery than I otherwise would have, but I really don't recommend the whole stop-your-hand-from-hurting-by-hitting-your-foot-with-a-hammer type thing. Because you know what? Eventually your hand AND your foot will hurt. And that just isn't cool.

I really couldn't bring myself to write about all of this before because it made it a bit too real. I jest in this post only because today we got the results of the scan, and they were AWESOME! Turns out it's not a hemangioma and she doesn't need skull surgery - it's a harmless hematoma in the soft tissue above her skull. No treatment, no surgery - it'll go away on its own. A happy ending to a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. And although the car is bashed to pieces, we will have to pay five hundred of the ten thousand dollar bill, and a lot of (unnecessary) worrying was done throughout the week, the important thing is that my baby is healthy. My baby is healthy and all is right in the world. I love you my sweet, sweet, girl. Please never make Mommy worry like that again until you are 16 and behind the wheel. I promise I'll warn you about cats and telephone poles. Deal?

Okay, okay so I have a sneaking suspicion that this whole worrying thing may continue. But it's alright, you're totally worth it. XOXO

~Mommy

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