Tuesday morning could not come fast enough. Although in some ways I wanted time to freeze. I wanted God’s hand to touch the CT results and make everything perfect and right. Again, I felt sick. I didn’t know a time line for when the results would be read but for some reason I felt very peaceful. I knew lots of people were praying and I was so grateful because again I did not have words to express my heartache of what could come, but I felt peace. I called at 8:00 just to give them my cell phone number again and to make sure that no matter what the time was, I would like a call when the results were read and then confirmed by our doctor. I finally spoke with our regular nurse as she had been out all of the previous week. She had been through it all with us. All of the weight checks. All of the billirubin tests. All of the exhaustion and stress and unknown. When we spoke she said she had just gotten in this morning and saw the doctor’s notes and referral for tests, she promised to call as soon as the results were in but at the very end she said “I would be so scared.” Then like a flash the tears came.
I was at peace.
Remember? Should I be scared? There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could change. Would I if I could? YES! But there was NOTHING I could do, but wait and pray, wait and pray. I wanted to do more. I wanted my mind to focus on it all day. I wanted to hold my baby and rock him all day and promise him everything would be okay, but my kindergarten loves awaited me. And they had become my escape. I didn’t want an escape, but I needed an escape. I needed something, anything so that I wouldn’t fall into the abyss of nothing but focusing on my baby’s head and replaying everything over and over and feeling as though it was because of me that he was going through this.
I prayed.
I called my mom and told her what the nurse had said. I told her I felt odd to feel peace but I needed reassurance that maybe it was okay?
I worried.
My whole lunch break was spent on the computer reviewing all the sites Chase and I had visited over the weekend. Maybe I missed something. Maybe there was just some way that this would all be untrue. I had a colleague who I didn’t really know her story but somewhere in my memory I remembered her mentioning something about her son needing a helmet, needing surgery and he was now a smart kindergartener who was amazing, but his story might be different than Cannon’s. She came in my room to pick up one of my kiddos and I just mentioned briefly in passing Cannon’s situation. Then I saw it in her eyes. I knew my world might come crashing down. But I held strong that it was not going to. She promised to come back later so we could talk.
I waited.
Then the call came. I couldn’t breathe. I called the counselor to come be with my class for a bit so I could hear all of what I needed to and then call Chase. “Ashley, the radiologist read the results, two doctors have reviewed the results and the CT scan. I am sorry, Ashley, but Cannon’s sagittal suture is prematurely fused. The only correction for his severity of craniosynostosis is surgery. You will need to see a specialist in Kansas City. After our call I will contact his office to get your appointment scheduled. In the meantime if you have questions you can call us back.” I think the only word that I said was okay. Because what can you say? She asked what time she could call me back. I told her 4:00. Then my stomach dropped.
I crumbled.
I called Chase and with an eerie calmness I told him the results. He didn’t say anything. Again, what can you say. Then, “I’m sorry babe.” “Me too”.
I broke.
My baby...my baby...my baby.
