*Despite my own crankiness and fears about keeping Amelia NPO after 3:30, she was a trooper and a half.

*Although we were told to arrive an hour early, no one saw us for the first 45 minutes.

*Living up to her middle name, my amazing daughter didn’t need sedation for her MRV. I was sad that they didn’t offer it to me.

*The MRV showed that there is a huge vein behind her posterior cephalocele, but it does not run through it.

*The surgery on the 26th will take anywhere from 2 to 6 hours.

*We will be in the PICU/NICU for 3-4 days postop. I’ll staying with her since I am her food source, which means I will not sleep for those days. God bless insomnia.

*Alex is going to have a terrible time with Dave and I being gone for so long.

*I’m still, armed with all of the facts, shitting my pants over all of this.

*I’m terrified that something will go badly wrong and I will lose my daughter. Whenever I close my eyes, these scenarios pop into my head.

*I feel like I’ve now used up all of the strength I had to get through this and I don’t know how I’m going to get through. I feel like I’ve been run over by a large truck.

*Hearing “don’t worry” has gotten on my nerves and now hurts my feelings to hear. It’s irrational, but it makes me feel like I’m overreacting. I only wish I was overreacting. No, I don’t mean you.

*I still can’t believe what a month it’s been.

76 thoughts on “Just The Facts, Sir

  1. Oh, Becky I just want you to know that you and your family have been in my thoughts so much. I devour every update you post. I know things will be just fine, but of course you’re going to worry. Sending you all the hugs and love I have (and that’s a lot). When you can’t stay strong, just stay medicated 😉

  2. I’m worried too, for all of you. Doesn’ mean it won’t all be okay. It just means I’m worried. And mad. I’m so sorry Becky. I’m here, knuckles white, hanging on tightly, never letting go.

  3. You are NOT overreacting! I would wonder about the kind of mother who wasn’t freaking out. You do whatever it takes to get through this. Everyone I know is rooting for you and Amelia, sending warm healthy thoughts your way.

  4. Of course you’ll worry. There isn’t enough medication in the world to not worry. But, you will get through this.
    Just know that there are arms reaching out from everywhere. And even that might not help, but that is true.
    You hold Amelia. Let others hold you.

  5. surround yourself with friends during the surgery, when my girlfriends baby had to have kidney surgery we surrounded her…. they were supposed to give her updates every hour, but the doc got in the groove and forgot that he was supposed to send a nurse out to us (in her case things were even better than we had hoped, he didnt lose a kidney after all)…. his surgery was 5-6 hours…..and while I know it was hellish for her , we told stores, played games and such and she told us that it was a huge help. no crossword puzzles or books or magazines would have caught her attention…….nothing like 6 girlfriends to take care of that for you….

  6. Oh Becky, I have been worrying right along with you. Of course you worry! You are in my heart and prayers every day, your whole family. My heart aches for you. I pray you receive some peace and are able to enjoy your everyday with your sweet baby and your boys, in spite of…

  7. Becky, our family will continue to pray for all of you.

    I know it feels like you can’t get through this, but you will. You will find the strength you need when the time comes. There are so many people that are thinking good thoughts, and praying for you right now. Just remember that going into the surgery.

    I do have one suggestion for you. Before the surgery, ask the nurses to make sure her IV is taped on really well so it doesn’t come out when she first wakes up and starts to move around. They did not do that when my daughter had her surgery, and she had kicked it out as soon as she woke up.

    I don’t know what hospital you are going to, but if they have a Ronald McDonald house, I highly recommend taking advantage of it. I know you don’t want to leave Amelia’s side, but since they are located right on the hospital campus, you can run over and take a nap, or get a shower while Dave stays with her.

    I can’t wait to meet little Amelia after she is all healed up!

  8. I cannot even imagine how this feels from the inside. It’s scary and worrisome to me and I’m like half way across the country and shit.

    You’re the mom, it’s your job to worry, and you’re doing it quite well, I might add.

    I am praying for you.

  9. It pisses me off when people tell me not to worry (and that’s about LITTLE things). I think most ANY good mom would be worried about something like this. It’s a BIG deal. It’s completely natural!
    I’m thinking of you guys & I’m here for you if you need to talk or anything. xoxo

  10. You are allowed to worry. You are allowed to be pissed off. You are allowed to have moments of weakness. Hell, I’d say you’re allowed to randomly attack strangers on the street because of what’s happening to your little girl. Sorry for popping up on you earlier before I’d checked here. You are in my thoughts often.

  11. Oh, worry away! My heart just goes out to you. When I see you say that you’re so afraid you’re going to lose your daughter, my heart just weeps. That’s the one fear that’s so huge, you’re afraid even to speak its name. But we know it’s there. If there is anything I can do to make life more bearable between now and the 26th, just say so. I’m not very funny and am sadly without medications to offer, but I do make a tasty pumpkin bread (because who doesn’t want carbs with their stress?).

    Hug Amelia, and take care of you too.

  12. It never ceases to amaze me when people(I know they mean well but it just doesn’t help) dismiss your feelings with oh it will be ok, you shouldn’t worry, and the best of all “Oh so and so’s baby had that and they were just fine”. Those placating statements drive me up the wall. I will be thinking of you and Amelia.

  13. Hey Becky, Thanks for the facts and just the facts. You should feel like you’ve been run over by a truck… a great big roller coaster kinda emotional truck!

    And worry away! We are here with you. Sorry you didn’t get the good meds for the MRI. Maybe you’ll get some for the surgery!

  14. For some weird, fucked up reason, us as moms worry AND always have enough strength to get through the “next” thing. You’ll make it through, you may not know how you did it, but you WILL. I’m sending you so many prayers and hugs and thoughts of peace.

  15. I would be a wreck!!! (Well, beyond a wreck). You are still writing coherent sentences, so that counts for something, doesn’t it?

    I will definitely be keeping you and Ms. Amelia in my thoughts and prayers–wishing her the fastest recovery possible–so that you can feel better and enjoy that sweet baby girl without all of the worry. 🙂

  16. Well I am glad you made it through without shitting your pants. You remain in my thoughts and prayers.

    I think a good exercise in distraction until the 26th would be more pictures of the adorable one (no, not you! the baby!) Well, ok, I am curious to see if your feet are biggie sized still.


  17. I’ve been following your blog since the birth of your little girl.

    My premature twin boys fell into the 4% of 28 weekers who develop brain bleeds and hydrocephalus meaning both had head surgeries (one had ten surgeries on his head), so I can sort of relate to what you are going through. The prospect of someone (even a cocky neurosurgeon) operating on your baby is scary and it is overwhelming. The what ifs about it all is enough to send even the toughest person to a mental hospital. But, I swear that the strength you are looking for will come, and you will do what you need to do to get through all of this. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, though. Ultimately, you have to because you are the mom and Amelia needs you.

    The good news is that Amelia will not remember anything about this experience. The bad news is that you will never forget it; but you WILL make it through.

    Sending you hugs and loads of strength for the weeks ahead.


  18. “Worrying” is chapter 1 in the mom’s handbook. Chapter 2 is “Finding Strength You Never Knew You Had”. Stay strong – bitch-slapping the folks who say “Don’t worry” is a great way to build up physical and emotional muscle. Prayers and love to all of you, my friend.

  19. It *has* been one helluva month, and it totally SUCKS. I hope her surgery and recovery go so crazy smoothly; I really do and have been thinking of little else. Just a little bit longer, Becky.

  20. There is no such thing as over reacting when your kids are facing something life threatning. And nothing more annoying than someone saying “it’ll all be okay” They have no idea how you feel and never will. I’ve never wanted to hit anyone in my life than all those that sad “it’ll be fine, she’ll be okay”. I’ll hit them for you. My butt feels your pain as you sit in the bad rocking chair by the incubator at her side for the next week. I am praying for you all. May it all soon be over. Hang on a bit longer.

  21. I know people mean well when they say “Don’t worry” but it seems to dismissive to me. I’d rather hear “I’ll worry with you.” which acknowledges I’m not overreacting.

    It’s brain surgery. Isn’t that the complex difficult thing everyone compares everything else too to show how easy everything else is? How can you not worry?

    I’ll be here, worrying with you. You try & get some sleep and know that the worrying is covered for a few hours

  22. yep. you worry. we’ll pray. you did use every bit of strength you had to get through this much. and now you’ll need a new supply, which, no doubt, you will come up with. you are that chick. the one who comes up with the strength she needs. worry. every second. how could you not? i will keep praying and so will everyone else.

    love you.

  23. It’s times like these when I really wish that someone would hurry up and invent a real transporter because I would love to be there with you as I know would many others. We’d pace with you, cry with you and smack people for you and then, when the all-clear comes, we’d all hug you with happy tears running down our faces. The 26th is marked on my calendar. You and Amelia will be on my mind that day, above all others.

  24. So we all need to know the exact time of the surgery. We will write it on our calendars where ever we’ll be. And at the beginning of and during the surgery we’ll all of us out here be praying/meditating/sending good vibes to little Amelia. The whole goddamn blogosphere out there praying continuously precisely during it. And you will know that she has that. I don’t care how exactly this shit works- I just know it’s powerful. So seriously.
    Good luck. There’s no “just calm down”. You’re going to get very good at being stressed. But it’s gonna be okay! Just do your best to breath deep and slow, and I wish you the best! 🙂

  25. Although your daughter sounds like she’s in good hands, OF COURSE you’re going to worry. Who wouldn’t?

    I’ll be worrying with you… and sending you wishes for all the best.

  26. I’m so sorry that you and yours are going through this. I can’t believe anyone would tell you not to worry. I’ve never laid eyes on Amelia in real life, and I’m worried for you! I’ve added Amelia to the prayer request section of my blog, because the more people praying, the better, I think. But if I’ve overstepped, please let me know, and I’ll remove the request, and just keep her on my personal prayer list. Hugs!

  27. OK, first: if you’re not worrying, you’re either dead or catatonic, neither of which can help you with mothering, so have at it if that’s what you’re feeling.

    Second, if there’s no big veins in there, then it probably makes the surgery a lot less complicated, right? Focus on that.

    I hope everything goes well for you guys.

  28. “Don’t worry” is up there with my other favorite: “It’s amazing what medicine can do these days.” They mean well, I suppose. And somehow you’ll get through this without scratching anyone’s eyes out.

    It just plain sucks.

  29. Beck you WILL get through it, because you have to. You may take a day or two to fall apart when it’s all behind you, but you will make it through. Your strong and you know what must be done.
    I have no doubt your scared out of your friggin mind. Any of us would be. But you can do this.
    Stay strong and lean on any one you can for support.

  30. Unfortunately excessive worry is one of those things that come with motherhood…and it’s even worse when our kids aer going through something huge like this. Try to hang in there, I’ll be thinking of you and Amelia and praying that the surgery goes perfectly.

  31. We’re praying for you all to come through this quickly and with no lasting effects.

    I’ll have a nice stiff drink of the Whiskey, for you on the 26th my friend.

  32. This will probably sound weird, since we’ve never actually met each other in person or even talked on the phone, but I’m going to say it anyway.

    I think the absolute world of you and I consider you one of my dearest friends, Becks.

    I so wish I could be there with you, hold your hand, let you cry on my shoulder, read trashy novels to you and act out the voices. As that can’t happen until I figure out how to teleport myself over large land masses, I’ll just keep saying what I’ve been saying: I’m here. I’m praying my heart out for you and your girl. I’m sending all my love out to you.

    I’m going to send you my phone number and if there’s anything I can do, even if it’s just listen to you cry for a while, please call.

  33. There is no “not worry,” or magic bullet, there’s just plowing right through it, one teeny tiny (medicated) step at a time. I like the idea above about having some friends come and gab to pass the hours. Wish we lived closer, because I would do this in a heartbeat. Not sure if it would help or just amplify things to write out fears — here or in private — but whatever the case, know that they’re valid, and we’re all here for you. And her.

  34. Being the suckiest blogger ever for the past month or so, I missed all this. Last time I was here you were in your like 18th month. I am so SO sorry this is going on with you and that gorgeous baby. I’ll send good thoughts your way and some vodka. hang in there.

  35. I’m thinking of you and yours. You’re right, “don’t worry” is as useful as “don’t breathe”. You’re absolutely within your rights to worry about your girl. Here’s hoping that once all this is said and done all the worries regarding this fade far away!

  36. I am thinking of you and your sweet baby girl. There is nothing else to say except you take all the pills you need to get through it-isn’t that healthy sound advice? *HUGS*

  37. There is nothing to say and probably damned little that anyone can say that will make you feel better or, at the very least, not make you want to throttle them. I certaintly don’t have the magic wand, but if I did, you’d get the first whack.

  38. I’d smack anyone who told me not to worry about my dog getting neutered, so it’s pretty scary to think what I’d do if I were in your shoes and someone was stupid enough to say that to me.

    Other than drugs and deep sleep, nothing is going to make you feel better until this is all behind you guys. Stay strong, mama!

  39. There is no such thing as over reacting in this situation. No mother would rest easy until her daughter is placed back in her arms and everyhting is ok again.

  40. you are bound to worry… we are all worried with you…but it will be alright ….and you and your family will be stronger and closer because of this….smooches

  41. I’m going to close my eyes and imagine all the good results that you can’t right now. It makes me sick to my stomach to think of how I would feel in your position.

  42. I wouldn’t dare to say “don’t worry” to you. I will instead say, “I hope and wish and pray that all goes well for your daughter, you, and your family”. There is power in numbers, baby, and I believe a shit-load of people are praying for you all, right now.

    BTW, I’m pretty sure you are one tough bitch, and you will somehow muster up the strength you need to get through this. I’m also sure you know that I mean that tough bitch part with love from one to another.


  43. See I take a break from the internet because it starts to become too overwhelming as I near Connor’s annversary…and I miss supporting an amazing woman.

    There will be “don’t worry” from me, there will be instead just take each minute (second if you have to) at a time.

    I’m not religious but I will think of you and your daughter each day.


  44. Becky, I’m so sorry. This sucks. Everything you are feeling is understandable. Those terrifying thoughts are to be expected. I can only imagine. This is your baby girl! If you are wondering, you’ll find your strength…but you won’t know you’ve found it until it is over. All of you will get through this, but it will be the hardest thing you’ve ever, ever done or experienced. Just know the whole internet is holding your hand.

  45. Don’t even try to not worry . . . . you don’t have a choice. But having spent a lot of time in hospital with my little Maggie, my advice is . . . DO take time to take care of yourself. The suggestion to have a Ronald McDonald house to go to for little breaks of quiet and change of pace is an EXCELLENT one. Even periodic walks outside the hospital can really help. Hang in there!

  46. I am sorry about all tough stuff that you’re going through as well. It must be terrible to have a beautiful daughter only to be told she needs surgery. The hugeness of that alone would scare me too.

    Thanks so much for your lovely comments on my blog. And I would love to start a support group. lol. I think all of blog land is going through a tough time of late, so it would be be pretty popular. 😉

    Keep going Becky. The hour before the sunrise is always the darkest.


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