I never made Fisher a baby book. And I don't think I ever will. The first four months of his life are such a blur of worry, pain, and fright that I don't think I can sit down and pull out the "good" memories to put in a book. Not saying that there aren't good memories, there are lots of good memories but unfortunetly I kind of ignore the good ones because when I think of those I am reminded of the bad ones as well.
It is hard for me to believe that I am 22 months out from his birth and I can still break down into tears when I look at his baby pictures. The pain is still so raw even after 22 months of time passing, counseling, and anxiety medication. It still hurts and in some ways I think it hurts more than it did then. I was in survival mode then. I just got through each day, knowing that Fisher was depending on me. And I also think that in many ways I "survived" by avoiding my feelings at the time - my frustration, anger, resentment - were all masked by the day to day craziness of caring for Fisher. I find now when I have to deal with Fisher's ongoing nose problems I can't avoid those feelings. We are going to a new pediatric ENT tomorrow at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital to get a third opinion. The first two opinions from Cincinatti Children's Hospital and then East Tennessee Children's hospital were vastly different (one recommended surgery now and the other recommended waiting until he was around puberty) and I feel like we need a third opinion to hopefully give us direction. So tomorrow I have to go to yet another doctor and explain what happened. I have to take pictures. The pictures that I don't show anyone because they break my heart. I have take those pictures and show a doctor, explain what happened and what didn't happen, and then hear another doctor tell me how unusual this is and how they have never seen anything like it and aren't sure of what to do.
Or maybe it will be different? But the last four times we have seen specialists I had my hopes up only to hear the same thing - unusual and not sure what to do. So I don't really have my hopes up this time. I am usually an optomist. I try to look on the bright side, because I don't want anyone to ever thing I am not grateful for our amazing son. But for some reason tonight looking through pictures to decide what pictures to take to the new doctor I am not feeling very optomistic. I am sad. I am hurt. I am heartbroken that 22 months out we are dealing with injuries that could have and should have been prevented.