An Early Christmas Gift

An Early Christmas Gift

The stress! Woah. There has been a lot of talk about the size of Joey’s head. I tend to whip out my phone and say, “welll, his father has a strong head. As does his brother.”

We all finally decided that a head ultrasound wouldn’t be a bad idea. When I was pregnant they told us that Joey had hydrocephalus . At a week old they told us his he did not.

After yesterday’s ultrasound they told us he most likely does, and may need surgery. Hydrocephalus (enlarged ventricles) lives in the middle of your brain. A pretty “whatever” surgery for the neuro team – but it put me right over the edge. More info was needed to decide how urgent intervention was, so they decided to do a sedated MRI. Lord. Really?

If you’ve met Joey you know how amazing he is. His cognitive skills are killer – he acts like a 10 month old, just can’t get his body to follow suit. He’s the most social guy, has amazing eye contact, and is just so THERE. If he has hydrocephalus it clearly wasn’t affecting him yet. What had me so stressed was the thought of surgery. Open heart surgery? Pshh. Brain surgery? I’m in a puddle.

Today we found out that he most likely had a stroke or something while he was in my belly – the ventricles look enlarged because his brain tissue is thin. THERE IS NO INTERVENTION, you don’t “do” anything for this type of thing. Our fellow and resident did a literal high five when they found out. No one wanted Joey, or his heart, to go through that.

My feeling on the whole thing? The brain is the most stupid muscle in our body. How much trouble does yours give you? Don’t you kind of wish you were Joey?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s