In Which We Opt Not to Play Powerball Because Collin is Getting Us Rich Off of the Tooth Fairy Anyway

First, came this cuteness:

And then, a few days later, because he couldn't stand the feel of one tooth in the front, came this cuteness:

The story of the recent goings-on in Collin's mouth is a lively one that involves me crying like a baby (twice), an almost broken bathroom sink, and C's six year old molars starting to come in. At four and a half. Never a dull moment.

Mother's Day

I love the double whammy of Mother's Day: giving thanks for the joy and privilege of being Collin's mom AND for his beautiful Nana, who sacrificed so much to make my motherhood a healthy and happy one.

Remembering

We went to Cincinnati this weekend for checkups and evaluations and second opinions. But I don't really feel like talking about any of that. Because Monday, our pal Talon passed away unexpectedly. Not that you can ever really be prepared for something like that. So right now, we're just thinking constantly of our friends, his family, and remembering the little moments from this weekend that really mattered.

An Unexpected Pain

So, there are the caring, poetic doctors who seem to understand your child and your situation and make you feel like everything is okay.

And then there are the doctors you don't see until you've been waiting two hours.

Who use the phrases "kids like him" and "kids like that." Repeatedly.

Who don't look you in the eye when they shake your hand and never touch your child during the course of the appointment.

Who relay their opinion with drama rather than compassion.

Who brush off your questions and smirk at your concerns.

We saw one of those doctors last week. Except the appointment was even worse than I describe here. I've just now recovered from the experience enough to write about it and I've started to draft the letter that I will be sending to the entire practice to explain why we are never coming back. And since I can't sort out my dislike for and distrust of the doctor from his diagnoses, we have an appointment for a second opinion in Cincinnati in a little over two weeks.

An Unexpected Beauty

It's Doctor Season right now. Every six months, all of Collin's specialists want to see him in their respective offices. This results in a roughly six week period during which we have anywhere from one to three extra appointments a week. In the beginning, this was an extremely stressful time. Every appointment loomed large and uncertain. It felt as though we left nearly every appointment with something new to worry about.

Now, it's still a stressful time, but mostly because of the rigor of Collin's schedule and the physical strain of getting him to appointments and back, with all of the potty-times-in-the-van that go along with them. Appointments now are more lead by us - we update the doctors, giving them our insights. We hardly ever leave having learned anything new.

So far, this season, we've seen the ophthalmologist, orthotist, pediatrician, geneticist/neurodevelopmental pediatrician, and cardiologist. Every appointment was either positive or at the very least boring (which is almost always a good thing for a kiddo with special needs). But our appointment with the cardiologist this morning took the cake. Even with all of the encouraging feedback we've gotten from doctors over the past couple of years, I've never heard anything that stole my breath. But this doctor (who is, as you can imagine, an excellent physician) totally knocked the wind out of me both as Collin's mama and as a writer. He was simply giving us and a medical student his opinion regarding Collin's thickened aortal valve, but what he said was this:

"This is a great patient with a great heart. 

It's a heart that isn't perfectly formed, 

but functions just like it is."

Even as kind and insightful as he is, I don't think he realized the scope and wisdom of what he was saying. But I jumped up and grabbed a pen, knowing that I was hearing a gift - something surprising and beautiful and healing to my own heart.