I've mentioned many times here that my baby was sick. His first birthday is fast approaching, and so is the March for Babies, and our doctor says that there's an 80 percent chance he will never need more intervention. We are cautiously optimistic. Our babe is a normal, happy, healthy 11 month old. Last night I dreamed that I became a pediatric nurse. I cried in my dream, because my heart still hurts so much, and being around sick children all the time would be so hard. But it felt right, because now I have greater compassion and respect for parents and the urge to help other families through such trying times.
Around 26 weeks in my pregnancy, my midwife sent me for an ultrasound because my baby was measuring small. The ultrasound showed a healthy-sized baby with a cyst in his neck. The doctor thought it was a benign branchial cleft cyst that would resolve on its own. I had a follow-up ultrasound four weeks later, which showed no change, and my midwife and I agreed to continue with our plan to birth at home.
I had a very long labor, and babe was born at the hospital. He was perfect and vigorous. We enjoyed a blissful 6 weeks at home. We learned to breastfeed and my postpartum recovery was pretty easy.
At our one month well-baby visit, our pediatrician was worried because baby's breathing was noisy (lots of snoring and snorting sounds), and the cyst in his neck was now visible, an egg shaped lump below his left ear. He suggested we go for an ultrasound. We didn't want to. We didn't want there to be anything the matter with our child.
"How about next week?" we said
"How about tomorrow," said our pediatrician.




