So we found out on Tuesday that Mr. Grant has something called a malrotated intestine, and that’s what is causing all his problems. This means surgery to correct it. If you’re looking for a good description of what this is go here:
I had called Grant’s pediatrician on Monday, after a horrific weekend of crying and he wanted to do the upper GI. So I scheduled it, and they asked that he not eat 3 hours before. This is so not cool for a little baby who is having eating issues anyway. That night we had to pack up our apartment to go to Grandma’s, and move stuff out of the laundry room and the master bathroom so that they could do their work. The poor boy got home about 6:30 and we finally were heading to Grandma’s about nine. We realized we hadn’t eaten so stopped at Arby’s and grabbed food. We then drove around the mall parking lot trying to buy ten minutes from Grant to eat before we got on the road. Aside from some minor squeaking it was hilarious, and we got some food in us, and Grant didn’t fuss until we got to Grandma’s.
So Tuesday morning, Grant wakes up at five, I stick him in his bouncy chair and he sleeps until 7:15 THANK GOD. He sleeps all the way to 62 and then wakes up and SCREAMS like he’s dying. Consequently I wanted to die, but we couldn’t get the test done unless he was empty so we get over there, and they OF COURSE make us wait forever with a grumpy, crying, baby. Then we get in and they FINALLY feed him the barium so that they can see his tummy. Our radiologist (who looked and talked just like Phillip Seymour Hoffman…ala creepy smart and ADD/OCD Phillip Seymour Hoffman) started in and was really nice and had a good sense of humor. I still felt like he might kill me or something but whatever.
I had an Upper GI done in high school when I was so sick, and lost a crazy amount of weight so fast and they were worried I was dying…so I knew what to expect and was just worried about whether we were going to have to hold him down. The boy only had to hold him for a minute or so for the first total stomach x-ray and after that we just watched while the nurse fed him and the boy and hung out in our snazzy x-ray blocking aprons. There was a TV screen where we could see Grant’s little organs, and as he ate, his stomach filled out with the barium, which showed up black on the screen. The doc keeps taking pictures and pointing out things every once and awhile. I’m very at ease with Dr. looky like Phillip Seymour Hoffman. As time passes I sit down and the boy starts looking weird, so I make him sit down. I thought he was just tired, and letting down now that the tests are almost done. The boy evidently notices that the radiologist doesn’t like what he’s seeing. I however am just worried about Grant having a reflux episode and watching for that to happen. Then the doctor lets us know that there is a structural abnormality.
That was weird. You’re always prepared as a first time parent to hear, “You’re crazy, and the baby is fine. We won’t be calling child protective services this time, but next time we’ll lock you up for Munchausen’s.” I was prepared to hear nothing was wrong and more worried about how we were going to cope with a colicky baby and medicine issues. It’s hard to hear your baby isn’t made right. He said that this is something that needs to be surgically corrected. He was going right then to page our pediatrician, and wanted us to go talk to a surgeon that afternoon.
I was SICK. I started swallow bawling. Which is my new technique for crying and wiping away the tears fast so no one sees and swallowing the sobs. It’s awesome but the nurse busted me, and asked if we were okay. I meekly tried to convince her, but my husband took over talking so I could continue on with the crying. We got the baby dressed and took him out into the hall, where we festered on the information, or lack of it for about an hour while doctors were tracked down, and a CD Of Grant’s scans were made for the surgeon. We made a list of questions while we waited for them to come and talk to us again. They finally came out and told us the surgeons name and the children’s hospital we’d need to go to. So off we went, freaking out the whole way, not really knowing what we were looking at or what this would entail. All we knew was that they were going to cut into our child…the little miracle baby we’d waited forever for.
You know because GOD FORBID WE JUST HAVE A NORMAL PREGNANCY OR A NORMAL CHILD AFTER TWO YEARS OF THINKING WE MIGHT NEVER DO THAT.
Sorry, but SERIOUSLY. I trust God has a plan in all this but I still just have to scream that sometimes.
So we get to the surgeon’s office, and he’s in surgery so I go off to get us food. Of course the surgeon comes back while I am out. So I RUN back, and we get the low down. He was AWESOME (and really hot and talked to me and looked at me in my eyeballs a lot) and explained everything really well and let us ask a million questions. He was impressed with our questions, and made a remark about how people don’t usually get into so much detail when he talks to them. He said we’d need to do the surgery soon, but he couldn’t do it until Monday or Tuesday (Like the 14th or 15th) he said that we could wait for him, or another partner in the clinic could do it. We chose to stay with him, and scheduled it for Monday at 7:45 AM. They gave us packets of information and sent us home.
Now all the doctors (His pediatrician, His surgeon, His radiologist, and my OB/GYN) are saying this is a common surgery, and that the surgery itself isn’t as risky as the anesthesia. The big issue with that is that they just don’t know how he’ll react. But everyone assures us that the children’s hospital is the best in the cities (besides Mayo) and that we’ll be well taken care of. Couple that with the fact that even though Grant has this, the only way we knew he had it was his fussy behavior. He’s amazingly symptom free besides his fussiness when it hurts him. Most babies that have this lose weight drastically or are vomiting and throwing up constantly. Grant isn’t doing either. He’s spitting up but I can count days between the times that it happens. And when I took him for his pre op appointment today he weighed 11 pounds eight ounces!!! He’s gained 16 ounces in the two weeks since he was weighed last and grown a half-inch…he’s 22 inches long now! His little head hasn’t grown but that’s just because his head was HUGE and his body is growing into it. Anyway the point is Grant is amazingly healthy for as sick as he could be with this.
So we go back to Grandma’s having the satisfaction of knowing a lot about what’s going on finally, but still feeling just sick. Mostly it just sucks. It’s terrible to watch your child be in pain, and we wouldn’t be able to relieve that pain until Monday. Not only that but we knew that Grant would pretty much be fussy and miserable until Monday. Crappy. Then to think the only way to make your baby better is to have him go through general anesthesia and be operated on is scary. He’s so little and new, and the elephant in the room is what if something happens and he’s forever different, or worse he dies? Now that’s dramatic, I know, but that’s what you think about.
All in all we’re exhausted and worried. I’m dealing with a fussy baby who won’t sleep all day long, and the boy is working all day and then trying to relieve me at night, and getting up with the baby a lot at night to help me too. We’re walking zombies. And we can’t really get help, because the baby barely stands going to the boy let alone anyone else. He just wants his Mommy, and will calm and usually go to sleep if I hold him. Now I can’t put him down, because he wakes up, but at least he’s quiet and resting. It’s a whole new level of tired, because when you do have a chance to sleep, you can’t because you worry about surgery and if you do sleep it’s not good sleep. Plus just knowing how much pain he’s in, and what he’s going to go through is tiring. It just wears you out.
Now take us out of our apartment, and see how we do. Oh? Did I mention we’re at Grandma’s house? God knows we love our Grandparents, but living with them is another thing entirely. Every time I would get him to sleep Grandma would come see if I needed anything, or talk really loud at him while he was sleeping. She just didn’t understand how loud she is because she can’t really hear, and then there’s the TV’s that she turns up really loud, because even though she has hearing aid’s she decided not to wear them while we were there. There are a million little things that would happen over the day, that I dealt with really well by just bawling every time she would go back upstairs. It was a little too much for me at times, but I understand that Grandma’s are Grandma’s and while hurtful things happen you can’t say anything because they are Grandma’s who are set in their ways, and wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain it to them.
So we’re really upset and if we tell you any different we are lying. But our families are coming, and things will get better. And after today there will be two of us to handle the baby and the trade off will do us both good.
