The n-word

Today we’re seeing Ted’s neonatologist. I’ve been dreading this appointment for weeks.

So far we’ve only had two follow ups but they’ve both gone like this: arrive feeling optimistic that Ted’s doing well. Come out feeling heavy hearted because you’ve been told the very news you really didn’t want to hear.

Still, can it get much worse than quad cerebral palsy and poor brain growth, which was the bomb dropped on us at the end of the last meeting. Actually, don’t answer that. I’m not sure I can handle it.

Let’s hope we leave looking like this:

20130314-055538.jpg

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