Today I am a little better. I am still grumpy as all hell, but I’m a bit better. Does that even make sense? It does in my world, anyhow.
I took Grace in to school this morning. We were a little late because she wouldn’t put on her shoes, but we eventually got there. I really like Gracie’s teacher. She is about my mom’s age, although like my mom she looks younger than that. You can tell she really loves her job, and she really loves each and every one of those kids. She finds that excellent balance between strict disciplinarian and loving grandma, so the kids always feel loved and cared for, but they know they can’t even try to pull the wool over her eyes. Every time I go in there, she also makes me feel welcome. It’s like she’s almost as excited to see me as I am to see her. Personally I think she is the best teacher in the school, and it will be a shame when Grace graduates preschool for pre-kindergarten.
This afternoon I had another appointment with my obstetrician. As we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that there was a sign on the newly-constructed building that shares the lot. Apparently it’s to be the imaging center for the hospital, which is fantastic news for me. Granted, I’m done having my regularly-scheduled ultrasounds, but if I go late with this baby like I did with Grace, I will need to have more scans to make sure I have enough amniotic fluid left. The new imaging center means that I won’t have to fight the mess in the parking lot at the hospital. It takes forever to find a place to park.
At least we don’t have to pay for parking, like folks who visit the hospital in Boston have to do.
The imaging center is supposed to open next month. I sure hope so!
I’ve been nervous since I had the ultrasound on Monday. I chalked it up to normal pregnancy concerns and didn’t mention my feelings to anyone. The ultrasound technician seemed really anxious for me to visit my OB; she asked when my next doctor’s appointment was because she wanted the doctor to go over the results with me. That put me on edge. With my last scan, the technician seemed a lot less anxious. She didn’t even ask when my next appointment was.
This afternoon, the doctor kept staring at her laptop screen when she first came in. My nerves started going through the roof, though I kept telling myself, “It’s nothing; you’re imagining things; everything is fine.”
Finally after her initial greetings, the doctor said, “There was an issue with your ultrasound results.”
My heart dropped out from underneath me.
She went on to say that the ultrasound had detected a cyst on the baby’s brain. I can’t remember the medical term for where it’s located, but it’s right on the part of the brain that regulates the flow of spinal fluid. She assured me that it is no big deal, that many babies have these cysts, and that the cysts generally resolve on their own. Even if it doesn’t resolve, it poses no problem for the baby in any way. It won’t cause any kind of developmental delay or any other issue.
But you know, that’s a very scary thing to hear for an already hormonal pregnant lady. I know that this cyst isn’t an issue. The doctor took pains to tell me that 95% of these cysts resolve themselves, and assured me that even if they don’t resolve, they are not an issue. I know this. But now I’m going to worry for the next four months (or longer! Will the baby have an ultrasound once it’s born??? Darnit, I forgot to ask) that there is something really wrong with it.
The doctor did say that she struggles with telling parents about these cysts because she doesn’t want them to freak out. She’s so insistent it’s really no big deal.
Somehow I need to convince my more emotional side of that.