He's fine!
Bizarrely, not only did they not find a hernia in my wee boy, the four-year-old in the bed next to him who was in for the same operation also did not have a hernia. It was phantom hernia day at our local children's hospital. When the nurse told me that the surgeon hadn't found anything wrong, my guilt was enormous - we had put him through all that for no reason. However, after some thought and discussion, I realised that there was nothing else we could have done - there was a lump there that came and went quickly, a GP did say she felt something that indicated that a hernia was the reason, ing.uinal hernias don't fix themselves so what else could anyone have done - for the doctors and for us, the only sensible, safe thing to do in those circumstances is to check it out. Thankfully, the operation was being done laparoscopically, so all he had was one tiny incision at his belly button where they popped the tiny camera in. Of course, the poor soul had had gas and the equivalent of an epidural - which I wish we could have spared him - but he has recovered really well.
I couldn't believe it when I heard the surgeon tell the family next to us that their son did not have a hernia either, though. I didn't know whether to be relieved that we weren't the only ones with imaginary lumps or to be worried about the surgeon's eyesight! The other wee boy is older and had had a double ing.uinal hernia at birth (which was corrected with surgery), so his family knew exactly what to look for (unlike us novice parents). His mother was stunned - we spoke afterwards and apparently her son's "hernia" pops out quite often and gives him pain. Both of us are to keep an eye on our sons for the next 6 weeks, take a photo of the "hernia" if it pops out and go back for a follow-up appointment. I'm fairly sure we won't see ours again - we only saw it once before. One of the more junior doctors suggested that our wee one's lump might have been a hyd.rocele, which can self-correct, so maybe that's the answer. All I know, is that I'm very relieved that my wee one came through OK - but still keeping a close eye on him for post-op problems (primarily infection etc) and not feeling complacent.
Our losses and the time it has taken us to have our wee boy definitely mean that we do not take him for granted!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
It Gets Worse
I thought the fear of losing my baby during pregnancy was bad, but the idea of losing him now is terrifying. CM (husband) is also fighting fears - specifically that our son will suffer some kind of brain damage during the operation and no longer be "himself".
He goes in to hospital tomorrow to have an inguinal hernia repaired. I know that it's a relatively minor operation. I know that anaesthesia is a very specialised and skilled area these days. I know that he is going to be in one of the best children's hospitals in the country. But our years of miscarriages have taught me that statistics only apply to other people, not to ourselves, and that things do go wrong even when you look like you're heading for a slam dunk.
He is turning into the most amazing little person. He is on solids now - wolfing down various gloopy purees (mango is the hands-down favourite so far). He will go to sleep in his own cot within 10-15 minutes of being put down - as long as I'm lying on the bed next to it holding his hand through the bars (this is progress from at least an hour of holding, rocking, walking, shushing and false starts as he wakes just as his head touches the sheet!). He is much happier during the day while we're out - instead of holding a screaming baby as I try to stuff a sandwich down my throat and carry on half a conversation with friends, he now sits in his buggy or a high chair and plays with his Sophie or firefly or "chats" to me and I eat with both hands and manage to have at least three quarters of a conversation. He loves playing at home - he wriggles about in his gym, occasionally rolling onto his tummy and back again, today pushing himself backwards with his feet towards a toy . He enjoys books - chewing the cloth books we have and having a story at bedtime (he likes rhyming stories best and ones with brightly coloured illustrations). He adores singing - listening to me or CM or the radio or iT.unes (and sometimes joining in himself - very funny!). He is a little TV addict - he only gets to watch a bit of CB.eebies but particularly loves some of the characters on "In the Nig.ht Gar.den" (he goes mad when Up.syDai.sy comes on!).
In short, he is already a wee individual and one we love more than anyone or anything on this planet. Losing him or seeing him diminished would be the end of us, so if you're of the praying persuasion, say a little one for him tomorrow that our cursed odds don't extend to him.
He goes in to hospital tomorrow to have an inguinal hernia repaired. I know that it's a relatively minor operation. I know that anaesthesia is a very specialised and skilled area these days. I know that he is going to be in one of the best children's hospitals in the country. But our years of miscarriages have taught me that statistics only apply to other people, not to ourselves, and that things do go wrong even when you look like you're heading for a slam dunk.
He is turning into the most amazing little person. He is on solids now - wolfing down various gloopy purees (mango is the hands-down favourite so far). He will go to sleep in his own cot within 10-15 minutes of being put down - as long as I'm lying on the bed next to it holding his hand through the bars (this is progress from at least an hour of holding, rocking, walking, shushing and false starts as he wakes just as his head touches the sheet!). He is much happier during the day while we're out - instead of holding a screaming baby as I try to stuff a sandwich down my throat and carry on half a conversation with friends, he now sits in his buggy or a high chair and plays with his Sophie or firefly or "chats" to me and I eat with both hands and manage to have at least three quarters of a conversation. He loves playing at home - he wriggles about in his gym, occasionally rolling onto his tummy and back again, today pushing himself backwards with his feet towards a toy . He enjoys books - chewing the cloth books we have and having a story at bedtime (he likes rhyming stories best and ones with brightly coloured illustrations). He adores singing - listening to me or CM or the radio or iT.unes (and sometimes joining in himself - very funny!). He is a little TV addict - he only gets to watch a bit of CB.eebies but particularly loves some of the characters on "In the Nig.ht Gar.den" (he goes mad when Up.syDai.sy comes on!).
In short, he is already a wee individual and one we love more than anyone or anything on this planet. Losing him or seeing him diminished would be the end of us, so if you're of the praying persuasion, say a little one for him tomorrow that our cursed odds don't extend to him.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
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