Our story begins in the office of my OBGYN. I sat all alone in the exam room. Waiting for the OBGYN to enter. He enters the room, cracks a few jokes, and then breaks open my file. I see a concerned look cross his face, and wonder what's wrong. Then he tells me the words that I wonder if I will ever forget. "The results are back from you ultrasound. . . Looks like your baby may have clubfoot. It is a deformity of the feet, but don't worry, they can fix it." My mind started to race 100 KM an hour. I had never hear of club foot. . . What would the baby look like? Will kids make fun of my baby in school? Will my baby walk? What sort 'fix' was he talking about? How severe is it? How long is treatment? Why my baby? was it something I did? Those and about a million more questions were racing through my head. I didn't cry. . . I just sat there. . . feeling alone, and confused. I asked a few questions. Every response was "I will refer you to a pediatric specialist, and they should be able to answer all of your questions."
"Clubfoot: A common malformation of the foot that is
evident at birth. The foot is turned in sharply so that the person
seems to be walking on their ankle. The medical term for the common
("classic") type of clubfoot is talipes equinovarus. Clubfoot can
sometimes, but not always, be corrected with a combination of
surgery, bracing, and physical therapy. When it cannot be fully
corrected, special shoes and braces are available to help the person
achieve a more comfortable gait and avoid stressing and deforming
other muscles and bones." *
Exam over, and I walk out to the waiting room. I am still trying to process what just just happened. . . A good friend is waiting to see her OBGYN with her Husband. She smiles, and gets up to hug me. She seems excited. . . too excited. How can she be so happy? I smile back, and tell her what the Dr just told me. She looks worried, and concerned, but I smile and act like everything is fine. "No big deal." I say to her. "He says they can fix it." Good bye hugs, and I leave the room. I get to the elevator, and it finally sinks in. . . my baby isn't perfect? How is that possible? I text My husband the news. I don't remember exactly what I typed through my tears. I then somehow managed to get in the car and drive back to work. I explained to one of the higher ups at my work that I would be unable to finish my shift. Through my tears I tried to explain that I had just received news about the baby at my appointment, and would fill them in later, reassuring her all along that no," I didn't lose the baby. The baby is fine." . . was my baby fine? What the HELL IS CLUBFOOT?
The following days and weeks are blurry at best. Roller coaster emotions of no knowing . . . I researched, My Husband researched. . . We looked at pictures, read stories online, signed up for support groups online. Then FINALLY, we got our appointment with the pediatric specialist. We wrote out all of our most important questions about what treatment will we do? How severe is the condition? Who will do the treatment? When will treatment start? How long will treatment last? and so on. We arrived at our appointment, and had to wait quite a while to get in. When we finally did I was a bundle of nerves, wound so tight I don't know to this day how I held it together. We listened to what the Dr had to say, questions in hand. . . He answered every one of them with one statement "we won't really know anything until the baby gets here. . . " ok. . . I am 24 weeks pregnant at this point. . . If the baby carries till term we have at least 16 weeks . . . 16 long weeks until we will even know how severe it is, and what the treatment will be? Needless to say we left the appointment frustrated, and emotionally exhausted.
And so the waiting game began. . .
* Excerpt taken from the following site: http://www.medterms.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=2762
