The X-Rays

Last Friday we went in to see our pediatric orthopedic doctor to have her new x-rays done and find out any further course of treatment. Call it a hunch, call it a mothers intuition, call it God but I knew I was not walking out of that room with good news. Having to wait in the exam room for nearly 30 minutes while our Dr. read out x-rays wasn't a good sign either. When he finally entered the room his first words were " I don't like these x-rays". He throws them up onto the light and walks me through what we are seeing. Georgia's femur bones are clearly too high and a little outside. They are still dislocated. This means casting.

I start to cry.

The nurse comes in with my paperwork to talk scheduling. She has a sweet smile and knowing eyes, the eyes of a fellow mother who has heard disappointing news from a Dr.

"I'm sorry." I say.

"Every mother cries" She says with tears in her own eyes as she recounts for me the time her son had to undergo surgery.

I leave the parking garage and pull over in the nearest residential area I find and start to sob. I don't want my child in a cast of any kind let a lone a full body cast. I'm already grieving the loss of seeing her baby legs, fat rolls, perfect belly, and baby booty every day. I can't get ahold of anyone on the phone. My husband is in surgery and my Mother is out of the country. So I pull myself together enough to drive and head home. I cried all afternoon and again when I gave her her bedtime bath, knowing that this treasured nightly ritual of ours will be coming to an abrupt end for quite some time.

Georgia will be put into a hot pink Spica Cast Friday morning. She will be in the cast for a total of 9 weeks. The cast will start at her nipple line and run down both legs to her ankles. It will be challenging. It will be sad. It will be funny. It will work.

It has too.