It’s no secret that I really embraced blogging around one of the hardest times in my life. Madison had been diagnosed with hip dysplasia and although it’s not life-threatening, it was definitely a condition that required a long road to recovery. I clung to blogging and sharing my story with other families dealing with the same process to survive. I poured all of my energy into researching every convenience that would make Madison more comfortable and I tried to share it with everyone I could. I connected with other “hip-mamas” through this blog. I became friends with theses moms as we shared our journey with stinky casts, guilt and eventually triumph and WALKING KIDS. It was an amazing ride and the experience strengthened my family.
Oh and Madison? She was a rock star and we? Well, we did the best job we could dealing with the situation at hand while being as positive as possible.
Still, there were dark times. Watching my 5 month sit in a hospital gown while I counted down the minutes until they wheeled her away from me for surgery was agonizing. The phone call we got in the waiting room telling us they couldn’t get the hip back in place without an open reduction shattered me. Walking back to recovery to see her sobbing and covered in a cast from chest to toes? One of the worst moments of my life.
And now sometimes I find my brain consumed with thoughts of “how on earth can I do all of that again?” When I found out I was pregnant for the second time I prayed for a little boy. Not only did the thought of a little man in the house delight me, but I also knew that the instances of boys being born with DDH (hip dysplasia) is FAR less common than girls. In fact, it is rare in boys.
When my OB told us that we were having a little girl one of the first thoughts that crossed my mind was “I can’t handle another kid with hip dysplasia.” The first time around we didn’t know what to expect and like I’ve mentioned here before, that ignorance really was bliss. We couldn’t comprehend having a child that was hooked up to a traction machine with her legs dangling in the air for hours per day. We didn’t know just how horrible that cast could smell. We didn’t truly realize how much it hurts to not be able to squeeze your little girl when you try to hug her.
Now I know what all of that is like. Many of you will say, “But you know you can get through it, so isn’t that a good thing?” or “Maybe the second one won’t have hip dysplasia, don’t worry until there is something to worry about.” You would all be right and also clearly wouldn’t have read this blog very much because I worry about EVERYTHING. But surprisingly in this case, my husband would agree with me that this is something to think about, not necessarily worry about, but we agree that preparing ourselves is our best bet.
Our second child will go in to Texas Scottish Rite Hospital (the AMAZING place where Madison was treated) at one week old for ultrasounds and a diagnosis. Hopefully the DDH will be caught far earlier than Madison’s (if she has it) and the odds are that with an early diagnosis treatment may never progress to surgery and a Spica Cast.
Still, sometimes I’m hit with debilitating fear that my first week home with my brand new baby girl will be plagued with bad news and it’s hard to deal with the fact that there is nothing I can do to change that.