My baby has a crooked head. His temple flattens slightly on one side, making it look like the middle spongy baby part is sticking out. Babies delivered by cesarian usually have perfectly round faces, unless, such is our case, baby's big head was too large inside momma's tiny pelvis and it got shaped funny.
I never really noticed it, until his doctor held his head, facing forward, with a concerned look on his face, while baby blabbed away. For some reason baby likes his doctor, even though he gets his little manhood squeezed and his belly fluffed by him.
Doctor sends us immediately to the x-ray room to check and see if his skull is already closing, which is a no-no in baby world because it could lead to all sorts of problems, one of them being blindness and which will lead me to cry myself to sleep that night. The solution for this problem is brain surgery.
The x-ray technician tells me to hold baby's little arms down and lay on his legs to keep him from moving. She steadies his head with big, scary black boxes on each side of his ears.At this point baby is no longer happily talking. He is screaming panicked, wondering why I, "the one who feeds him," is being mean to him.
(I imagine that baby sees me as "the one who feeds me," and not so much as"mom" yet. I think he views my husband as "the goofy one with the big hands that makes me laugh.")
Anyway, as I try my best to hold little flailing legs, I see the roof of his mouth, wide open now as he screams. It occurs to me that I've never seen the roof of anyone's mouth and I wonder how many more angles I will get to see of this little person in this motherhood journey. It also occurs to me, right when the x ray machine turns on, that the poster right above his screaming face warns that if I could be pregnant, that I shouldn't be in this room.
Could I?
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