We had mild drama over the last few weeks. The pediatrician heard, what he thought was, a heart murmur. I knew this was typical of two-year-olds, but still I completely freaked. I googled way too much and pretty much came up with nothing. My buds via facebook gave me the best advice, ‘don’t worry until the doctors tell you to worry.’ This simple sentence sustained me for the two weeks it took to have a recheck at the pediatrician. When it came time for the appointment, Korbin wasn’t ready to leave school and when I told him we had to go to the doctor he said, “what happened, am I sick!?!” Too cute, right? We get to our appointment and I can just about taste my heartbeat. Well, the pediatrician still heard the murmur and he referred us to the pediatric cardiologist. Kinda scary now. This is the big leagues. A cardiologist will have either a good answer or a not so good answer. I start to panic, cry some more, stress, and worry until I can make an appointment with the cardiologist. I was able to get into a cancellation this Monday at 2:30. After waiting for almost an hour I was able to get in. The doctor was super nice and there was an intern with him so he was over explaining everything which was really, really nice for me. The doctors listen to his heart and they hear a murmur, then whenever Korbin turned his head it would go away, then he would move another way and it would come back. So the doctor prepares the EKG and they see nothing of concern. Final analysis: classic two-year-old big head. Having a large head makes the blood rush into his body anytime he lifts it or moves his arms, and he’ll just grow out of it. It was so reassuring to see their was no hole in his heart, or missed beats, or anything else wrong. WHAT A RELIEF!!! I just want my baby healthy and happy.
The hard part, aside from the accompaniment of worry and concern is the not knowing. I forget all the questions I don’t have answers to, like, how was his birth; how much did he weigh when he was born; what was his first year like; any health concerns when he was an infant? I don’t know people. I didn’t give birth to him! I say he’s ‘mine’ and then someone asks me a buttload of questions that I don’t have the answer to. It makes me feel less than and inadequate and not like a ‘real’ mom. I feel like a childcare provider who is helping a friend by taking her kid to the doctor. But I know I’m his mom because I’m the one tearing up in the waiting room. No one is there with me, no one is texting me to see if he’s okay, no one is sending me well wishes via voicemail to hope everything goes well. no one is sitting next to me assisting with paperwork. No one is offering to entertain him while I ask questions to see what we can expect of the visit. I’m the mom doing that. I’m the one wanting the best for him every moment of every day. I’m the one wanting him to have a successful future by having a successful today. I’m the one needing him to be okay so I don’t loose the one person I have worked so hard for. I know I am his mom, this is real and this is true to me, but it’s amazing the power of language. It’s alarming how one person can ask just a few questions and you hesitate and stop and forget your role. It’s amazing and heartbreaking that one person, meaning no harm at all, can make me feel less than.
And then there is today…Wednesday. A day unlike any other day where this little boy comes running to me calling me momma and most recently mommy and I smile not only on the outside but on the inside because he needs me and I need him. It is only then that I can see that it doesn’t ever really matter what someone asks, or says, or thinks . It’s the reality of what is. This reality is not mearly my perception of what our family dynamics are it is the reality of my son being my son and me being his mom and that, yes, that will never change.
May all your days be brighter than you expected and your saddest moments over before they begin.
[caption id="attachment_88" align="alignnone" width="180" caption="Summertime at our school"]
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