Really Tough

Never in a parent’s life do they want to admit that there is something “wrong” with their child.  Why would you want to admit to that?  That could imply blame on you, as the parent, in the way you are raising your child.  Who wants that?  But sometimes, just sometimes a parent must face facts and admit that some help is needed.  Everyone, especially the child, is better for getting that needed help. 

My son needs a helmet to re-shape his head.  They are called cranial re-shaping helmets.  Ian developed a flat spot at four or five weeks old.  I knew that he would need to have something done, but since we were moving from Offutt AFB to Ft. Bragg, I didn't press the issue.  Once we got to Ft. Bragg, Ian was assigned a new doctor and we started to monitor the shape of his head.  I was asked to wait until he got a little older so x-rays could be done.  Since the x-rays showed no sign of skull damage, we were asked to wait until he turned twelve months old.  His doctor hoped that this would correct on it's own and that a helmet would not be needed.  I played the game and waited.  All this time, Ian is growing, of course.  That’s what babies do…they grow.   Ian was finally given a consult to see a very nice doctor off post; however, it took us seven weeks to get an appt.  Time is not on our side and from the research that I’ve been doing Ian needed the helmet when he was six months old.   

Now my son is fourteen months old, and he is finally wearing his cranial re-shaping helmet.  I can see a slight difference already.  We were fortunate that his head has started to round out in the last few months, so he’ll only be in this helmet for three or four months.  I am thankful for many things, but I mostly I am thankful for my tenacity.  I would not give up on getting my son the needed helmet and healthcare that he deserves.  

This has not been an easy decision to put Ian in this helmet.  First, Tricare does not cover this.  We are paying out of pocket for something that is incredibly expensive.  Second, I have to wonder, as a mother, if there was something I could have done differently.  Should I have held him in a different position, should I have forced a screaming infant into doing more “Tummy Time?”  Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda, are words I really don’t like and here’s the reason why.  This expense is a drop in the bucket of what Ian will need in his lifetime.  He’s my son which means, I should do whatever I can to make sure he’s healthy and happy.  To answer the second question, no I couldn’t have done anything different.  Tummy Time is great, but it’s not a cure all.  I held Ian the best way for him to know that he is loved more than anything on the planet.  So no, I couldn’t have done anything different. 

So, why am I so sad about this helmet?   I believe I discovered the answer today when I was brushing my teeth as my sweet boy came toddling over to me with his little helmet on.  I am not interested in him being ridiculed.  I was hoping to keep that away from him for a little while longer.  Do you know how hard it will be to see people staring at him, pointing, whispering, making comments, being rude, or being plain old awful?  My perfect little boy, my sweet son, will be the object of some really lousy jokes for people.  And that makes my heart break.  Already we are enduring comments from Jeremy’s co-workers.  They are actually attacking me as a mother, making fun of the helmet, and being nasty in general. 

I wonder if people ever stop to think about how hard decisions like this one are for parents.  Why would any parent want to put their child through something that will make them the objects of someone’s sick joke?  Do you think that I enjoy seeing people stare at him?  Do you think this is fun for me to explain why he needs this helmet?   Tonight when I held my son in my arms, and he placed his head on my chest for his goodnight hug, I couldn't smell his freshly cleaned hair; I could only smell the plastic of that helmet.  I had to choke back tears.  So badly, I want to remove that helmet and kiss the top of his sweet head and tell him that I love him and that I’m sorry. 

Why is different something to be ridiculed?  Why do I want to just hide inside my house so no one will see Ian?  I know there are more good people than bad people, but I am not sure I am strong enough to take the high road if anything is said.  I am not sure if I can be the better person only because I don’t know if I want to be the better person.  I would love for someone to say something to me about Ian’s helmet.  I am actually looking for the fight.  I am ready to fight with ferocity worse than a lioness.  Ian is my baby, and as his mother I must protect him.  For those of you that wish to continue on your path of being the spineless, ugly, asshole…go ahead.   Remember, you’re the jackass making fun of a baby, and the mother that’s trying to ensure his good health.  Who’s the asshole in that situation?