It’s not something I’ve talked about much outside of our immediate family. Not that it’s been a secret, exactly, but talking about it almost makes it seem worse. At this point, though, I’m finding a need to get it off of my chest.
One day this past winter, Cy and I noticed that Zachy had blue lips. It was concerning, but I scooped him up onto the couch and snuggled with him under a blanket. His coloration returned to normal and we convinced ourselves he had just gotten too cold playing in the floor. A few weeks later, though, it happened again. After it happened a few times, I decided to bring it up to their pediatrician and did so at Bryson’s 3 month appointment. I was expecting her to brush it off as normal and my heart sank when she got very serious and asked a serious of questions, then drew up orders for tests and sent us over to the hospital for a chest x-ray, ekg, and blood work. The next day we found that the x-ray was normal, blood work was a bit wonky, and the ekg results weren’t back yet. She said for us to repeat blood work in a couple of weeks, I catch it most when changing his diaper, but it’s not the diaper changing that’s causing it.
Then I showed her the picture from August 7, which was the bluest they’d been. She looked at it, and said she was referring us to a cardiologist. Then she was discussing which would be the quickest to get into, and asked if we’d consider going out of state if it meant getting in faster. Somehow, though, I’m not supposed to worry. She ran through the positives with me – the x-ray is fine, no one has ever heard a murmur. Still, though, his lips are turning blue pretty often. Something is going on.
On top of that, his blood is always showing signs of his system fighting something. What? His blood tests are becoming routine, and each time we’re testing for more. Don’t worry. This time we began testing for diabetes because of his excessive thirst. She’s running titers to try to find out what his body could be fighting. Don’t worry.
Most people who know me know I have major anxiety. Worry is what I do. Since he was still new I’ve felt something was wrong, and I pushed it away as anxiety. Then I didn’t feel that same wrongness with Bryson, but still pushed it down as anxiety, especially since my pregnancy with Zachary was so much more problematic (at least until the end, but that’s another story for another day). Here we are, though, and there is something wrong. It’s confirmed, something’s wrong, even if we don’t know what.
He’ll be okay. He has to be. She tells me not to worry, and I trust her. She’s probably the only doctor around here who has been able to retain my faith. Still, he’s my rainbow miracle baby. My mini-me. Not worrying is not possible.